




?.°-n^. 





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A HISTORY 
of WILLIAM PENN 

FOUNDER OF PENNSYLVANIA 



Bv 



W.'^H E P W O R T H DIXON 



Author of ''New America,^* 
''Her Majesty' 5 Tower,'''' etc. 




NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS: NEW YORK, 1903 






P. 
Publ. 



Preface. 

Twentj-one years have passed since 'William 
Penn, an Historical Biography', came out. The 
book obtained some favour, not in England only, 
but in Germany and America. Yet it has long 
been out of print ; awaiting that revision which 
an author who respects his public likes to give his 
final work. In one-and-twenty years, much light 
has come to us from public offices, both home and 
foreign ; and in dealing with a mass of new mate- 
rials I have been led to write my book afresh. 
The change of title hardly corresponds to the ma- 
terial change. It would be no misuse of words to 
say that * William Penn : Founder of Pennsylva- 
nia/ is substantially a new book. 

6 St. James's Terrace, Regent's Park. 



Note. 

In the first edition of 'William Penn' appeared 
an Extra Chapter on the charges brought by Ma- 
caulaj against Penn. The five specific censures 
were confronted with the actual names and dates, 
and every fact alleged as ground for censure was 
shown to be no fact at all. With a consent most 
rare in matters of this kind the press accepted 
this defence, and almost every one expected that 
the calumnies would be withdrawn. 

On some points he gave way; especially as to 
William Kiffin and the Prince of Orange. 

In his first edition he had repres-ented Penn as 
being 'employed by the heartless and venal syc- 
ophants of Whitehall" to seduce Kiffin into the 
acceptance of an alderman's gown and failing to 
induce that sturdy Baptist to comply. I met this 
statement with the words of KiflBn ; words which 
proved that Penn was not employed 'in the work 
of seduction;' and that Kiffin dUJ accept 'an al- 
derman's gown,' Macaulay fenced wdth the first 
citation, but the second smote him, and he added 
to his text that Kiffin took the alderman's gown. 

In his first edition he had said in reference to 
the Prince of Orange : ' All men were anxious to 

know what he thought of the declaration 

Penn sent copious disquisitions to the Hague, and 
even went thither in the hope that his eloquence, 
of which he had a high opinion would pre ve irre- 
sistible.' It was shown that not a word in this 
paragraph was true. Penn sent no copious dis- 
quisitions to the Hague in 1687. He did not go 



NOTE. 

over in the hope that his eloquence would prove 
irresistible. He did not go at all. Macaulay drew 
his pen across this passage ; replacing what was 
proved to be a falsehood by a sneer. 

My hope was that Macaulay would in time with- 
draw his charges as disproved. I had some rea- 
son for this hope. His mind was racked by 
doubts, and he was often busy with this portion 
of his book. It is within my knowledge that his 
latest thoughts on earth were given to Penn and 
that which he had said of Penn. Some part of 
what he might have done, the world can guess 
from what he did. He ceased the work of cal- 
umny. In what he wrote after 1857, there is not 
a single sneer at Penn. His indexes were greatly 
changed. He struck out much that was false, 
and more that was abusive. Penn's Jacobitism 
was no longer 'scandalous,^ his word was no 
longer a 'falsehood.' Penn was no longer charged 
with ' treasonable conduct,' with ' flight to France,' 
and with 'renewing his plots.' What else Macau- 
lay might have done can only be surmised ; but 
it is fair to think that changes in his index would 
have been followed by amendments in his text. I 
know that he was far from satisfied with his 
'Notes' of 1857, and that he was engaged in re- 
considering the defence of Penn when he leaned 
back in his chair and died. 

Unhappily he passed away, and made no other 
sign. The accusations in his text remain : and it 
is only just that the defence of Penn. extended 
and adapted to the present time, should reappear. 



viu 





Contents. 








CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I. 


Old and New Fortunes . . 11 


II. 


SearGeneral Penn 




18 


m. 


School and College . 






28 


IV. 


The World . . 






a7 


V. 


Father and Son 






46 


VI. 


Hat-Homage 






55 


VII. 


Sword and Pen 






60 


VIII. 


In the Tower 






66 


IX. 


Blasphemy and Heresy 






75 


X. 


Stillingfleet 






83 


XI. 


A Fresh Arrest 






90 


XII. 


Old Bailey 






96 


XIII. 


Trial of the Jury 






107 


XIV. 


Guli Springett 






116 


XV. 


Bond and Free 






120 


XVI. 


Married Life 






128 


XVII. 


Holy Experiment 






135 


XVIII. 


Work and Travel . 






144 


XIX. 


The World 






152 


XX. 


Algernon Sydney 






159 


XXI. 


A New Country 






168 


XXII. 


Pennsylvania 






176 


XXIII. 


Clearing Ground 






184 


XXIV. 


In the Wilderness 






193 


XXV. 


Philadelphia 






. 204 





CONTENTS 








CHAPTER 


PAGE 


XXVI. 


At Home 215 


XXVII. 


At Court . 






. 223 


XXVIII. 


Mediation . 






. 235 


XXTX. 


In the Shade . 






. 248 


XXX. 


A House of Dole 






. 255 


XXXI. 


Land of Promise 






. 265 


XXXII. 


Pennsbury 






. 274 


XXXIII. 


Making Empire 






. 283 


XXXIV. 


Closing scenes 






. 290 




Supplementary Chapter 




. . 306 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 



CHAPTER I. 

Old and New Fortunes (1644). 

The Penns of Penn were an old family, living in 
Bucks during the wars of the Red and White Roses, 
three or four miles from the town of Beaconsfield. 
in the parish from which they seem to have got 
their name. These Penns of Penn have long since 
passed away. 

In very old times a branch of this family re- 
moved to the north of Wiltshire, where they held 
a small estate in land, a hundred pounds a-year. 
on the skirts of Brad on forest, on the borders of 
the shire. Their seat was called Penn's Lodge, a 
'genteel ancient house ' and in the town of Minety, 
across the border, they had a second house. The 
last of these old Penns of Brad on forest was Wil- 
liam Penn of Penn's Lodge and Minety. who sur- 
vived his only son also a William I'enn, and dy- 
ing in 1591 at a great age. was buried in Minety 
Church, near the altar. On the old man's death 
the property was sold to pay his debts, and this 
connexion of the Penn family with Penn's Lodge 
and Minety ceased. 

This patriarch of failing fortune left two grand- 
sons William and Giles, to begin the world afresh. 
Giles went to Bristol took to the sea and en- 
tered into trade. He sailed into the North Sea; 
he crossed the Bay of Biscay ; he visited the Sp an- 
il 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENX. 

ish ports; he caught some glimpses of the pirate 
holds. The skipper had his iips and downs; for 
some of his ventures turned out ill; the rovers 
seized his goods, the factors cheated him ; yet on 
the whole he made his way. In Bristol he found 
a lady to his mind ; a Gilbert of Yorkshire, who 
had recently come into the west country ; and 
marrying her. he took a house in that city for her 
home and there his sons, George and William (the 
future admiral) , were in due time born, though at 
an interval of twenty years. 

George, the elder born of these two Bristol boys, 
was early put to work under his father's eye. He 
learned the business of a merchant, and spent his 
youth in passing from Cadiz to Antwerp and Rot- 
terdam, until he fell in love with a lady of Ant- 
werp, a Catholic in creed and a subject of the 
Crown of Spain, This love was happy, and on 
being united to the woman of his heart George 
Penn set up his home at San Lucar, the port of 
Seville, then a busy, thriving town. George, hav- 
ing no offspring, brought his wife's sisters from 
Antwerp to live with her. and made for them a 
pleasant home in that Morisco port, near the 
English hospice of St. George. 

William, the younger born of these two Bristol 
boys, was put to sea. Captain Giles Penn. his 
father, roved about the Spanish. Portuguese, and 
Flemish ports ; and William worked his way. under 
that father's eye. from the lowest work on board 
his vessel to the highest office on the quarter- 
deck. 

After George's settlement in San Lucar. Captain 
Giles Penn. the father, turned his keel towards the 
Moorish ports, then opening up a new and tempt- 
ing branch of trade. The Moors of Fez and Susa 
were in want of many things that Bristol could 
12 



OLD AND NEW FORTUNES. 

supply— tin. lead, and iron most of all— and Giles, 
having paid a visit to the ports, from Tetuan to 
Sallee. observing the course of trade and picking 
up the native speech, began to fetch from Bristol 
such commodities as he found would sell. But this 
new trade was only to be carried on at daily risk 
of life. The Spanish court had closed the Barbary 
ports by paper blockade —much as they had closed 
the American ports. Such ports were lawless in a 
certain sense, the natives having built and manned 
a swarm of boats in which they roved about the 
seas and preyed on vessels under every flag. ]n 
fact, these Barbary ports were pirate-ports. From 
Tunis to Sallee the African harbours sent out every 
spring a fleet of rovers ; some of which swept the 
coasts of Spain on her eastern side, some on her 
western side ; those pushing out as far as the Gen- 
oese waters, these coming up into the German 
and Irish seas. They chased all colours, and they 
seized all ships. They not only took the goods on 
board, but sold the officers and crews as slaves. 
Muley Mohammed, Emperor of Morocco, tried his 
best to limit this warfare of the sea to Spain ; but 
his seat of government was far away from the 
coast, and his unruly subjects of the sea-ports 
would not stay their hands to please a young and 
feeble prince. Sallee, the busiest of these pirate 
nests, was in revolt against his rule. 

A quick and able man, this Captain Penn not 
only knew that court favour would be useful to 
him in his perilous trade, but saw how favour 
could be won at court by simple means. King 
Charles was fond of falconry, and (iiles brought 
home with him a cast of Tetuan hawks. Charles 
quickly let him know that he would like more 
hawks, on which the Bristol skipper told him he 
could get these birds if the King would give him 
13 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

letters of protection to the Moorish governor of 
the town. Lord Conway drew up letters in his 
favour, and Giles went back to Tetuan with the 
King's command to buy him Barbary horses, as 
well as hawks. On his return to England he came 
to town, when he made the acquaintance of Sir 
Robert Mansel. Edward Nicholas Endymion Por- 
ter, and other gentlemen of the court. Mansel had 
a great opinion of the skipper, and wrote to Lord 
Dorchester, then Secretary of State in his behalf. 
For Giles was in some trouble about a sale of car- 
goes in Tetuan; the proceeds had been seized, and 
Captain Penn was much afraid of being clapped 
in jail. His great friends helped him, for the King, 
in love with his new hawks, was eager for his 
agent to go out again. 

In passing from Bristol to Barbary for several 
years, Giles Penn became acquainted with the 
Moors their ports, their customs, and their speech. 
At Sallee he was pained to hear that hundreds of 
English captives were said to be enslaved in that 
pirate stronghold ; some of them were women ; but, 
the port of Sallee being in revolt against the em- 
pire nothing could be done for them in the native 
court. On coming home Penn laid his news before 
the King, with full reports of what he had seen 
and done, and hints of measures by which the 
captives might be released. His plans were laid 
before the Council and approved. A fleet was 
manned and victualled for the voyage. Admiral 
Rainsborough was appointed to the chief com- 
mand ; and there was a talk of sending out Cap- 
tain Penn as Rainsborough's Vice-admiral. The 
skipper came to London, lodged at the Black 
Boy. in Ave Maria Lane and saw Lord Cotting- 
ton and Lord Portland, who consulted him on 
every detail of the expedition the ships to be 
14 



OLD AM) NEW FORTUNES. 

sent out, the stores to be laid in the crews to be 
impressed, the mode of approaching the pirate- 
town, and the general policy of the voyage. But 
after being detained in London more than half a 
year he was dismissed with money and thanks; 
the money not much, the thanks still less. The 
voyage was a great success, Sallee was taken, 
the prisoners were released, and Muley Mohammed, 
on receiving back his revolted port, repaid the 
citizens, who had bought these English captives 
from Algerines the value of their liberated slaves. 

To prevent this traffic in English flesh and blood, 
the London merchants prayed the King to ap- 
point a consul in Sallee offering to pay all charges 
from the profits of their trade; and when the 
Council wrote to ask them who should be sent 
out, they answered Captain Penn. A warrant 
was accordingly drawn up and on the 30th of 
December, 1637. Giles Penn of Bristol was ap- 
pointed His Majesty's Consul at Sallee. 

WTien Captain Penn went to reside in Sallee. his 
son William kept his ship, until ship and man 
were taken together into the service of King 
Charles. At Rotterdam , the Bristol boy had fallen 
in with Margaret, a daughter of Hans Jasper— of 
that town — a girl with rosy flesh and nimble wit 
—and being taken by her comely face, had of- 
fered her his heart and taken up her own in 
pledge. But AYilliam was a prudent lover. Bent on 
rising in the world — perhaps rising to be Penn of 
Penn's Lodge —he had left the lady in her father's 
house on the canal, till he could lodge her in a 
better home than a poor skipper's cabin in a 
merchant-ship. 

In those days every vessel going out of Thames 
or Severn on a distant voyage was armed ; with 
five guns, ten guns twenty guns as the case 
15 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

might need. She armed according to the seas she 
had to cross, the pirates to resist; and every of- 
ficer on board was trained in all the details of 
war at sea. The trading navy was a fighting 
navy. When the country wanted fleets, and men 
to officer these fleets, she had only to send for 
the port-reeves and masters of companies, hire 
the vessels, and engage the officers and crews. 
The commercial navy was not the reserve ; it was 
the actual fleet ; but only called and paid in time 
of war. 

In 1639, when the future Admiral was eighteen 
years and six months old, the Dutch acquired, by 
two great victories over Spain, a perfect com- 
mand of the Narrow Seas. Tromp rode within 
sight of Dover Cliffs, and Charles was suddenly 
smitten with the want of money, ships, and men. 
The money was refused him ; but he found no diffi- 
culty in procuring ships and men. The craft in 
which William Penn was serving as a skipper seems 
to have been hired by the Crown ; and thus a lad 
of twenty passed into the public service with lieu- 
tenant's rank. Even now he would not marry ; 
and his rosy Margaret could wait. Knowing his 
duty as few men know it, he was soon employed, 
and soon rewarded for success. At twenty-one he 
was a captain. A few months later, fortune still 
going with him, he received a regular commission 
in the King's service, with the promise of the first 
ship worthy of his fame ; and having got his com- 
mission in his pocket, he ran over to Rotterdam 
and claimed his bride. 

From that day forward Penn was always rising. 
When on shore he lived with his young wife in the 
naval quarter, near the Tower. His frank and jo- 
vial ways were highly relished. He had seen the 
world; he sang a stave; he loved a prank and 
16 



OLD AND NEW FORTUNES. 

jest; and drank his wine with any salt alive. 
•Dutch Teg,' with 'more wit than Penn himself.' 
says Pepys, was jeered at first, until her friends 
discovered that both she and Captain Penn were 
folks to rise. 

A first step for the young captain of the royal 
navy was to find employment for his talent. The 
great dispute of King and Commons as to which 
should command the marine had just been settled 
(1643) by the appointment of Warwick, in oppo- 
sition to the will of Charles, to the office of Lord 
High Admiral. A part of the fleet, stationed in 
the Irish seas, adhered to the royal cause under 
the command of Sir John Pennington, whom the 
King had vainly tried to make Lord Admiral ; but 
the number of his vessels was not formidable even 
at first, and capture and desertion soon reduced 
them to such a state of weakness as to prevent 
their being troublesome to the Parliamentary 
chiefs. 

One of Pennington's captured ships was the 
Fellowship, Captain Burley, cut out in Milford 
Haven ; a vessel of twenty-eight guns ; the third 
in size and weight then serving in the Irish seas. 
This ship was given to Captain Penn, who re- 
ceived his orders to sail in the service of his 
country ; and though his wife Margaret was then 
in a critical state, expecting to be confined, he 
went on board. At six o'clock in the morning, 
all being ready, he shipped his anchor and 
dropped down the Thames. But he was sud- 
denly recalled to his house on Tower Hill. The 
Fellowship was detained in the river three weeks, 
and during these three weeks the Founder of 
Pennsylvania was born into the world. 

The day of his birth was Monday, October the 
fourteenth, 1644. 

2 17 



CHAPTER II. 
Sea-Gexeral Pexx (1644-1655). 

After Penn of Penn, and Penn of Penn's Lodge' 
the boy was christened William. Round in face, 
with soft blue eyes and curling hair the boy was 
'a love ' not only in his mother's eyes^ but in his 
father's heart. Captain Penn had now a son to 
fight for; and as soon as Peg was fit to be left, 
her husband joined his ship and after visiting his 
admiral in the Downs, pushed onto Portsmouth, 
where he took Lord Broghill and his company on 
board. With Broghill Captain Penn formed a 
friendship which was never broken till his death, 
and which descended to his son. On landing 
Broghill at Kinsale, Penn put to sea and cruised 
about the opening of St. George's Channel from 
Milford Haven to the Cove of Cork. 

In this service he remained some years; the 
ablest, if not the boldest cruiser in that section 
of the Commonwealth fleet. The prizes which he 
seized were sometimes rich ; and he was able to 
remove his wife and child from the close atmos- 
phere of Tower Hill to the lawns and gardens of 
a country house. For some brief time he hired a 
place at Wanstead in Essex, to which he ran on 
leave. A daughter Margaret and a son Richard, 
were in season added to the nursery in which 
William broke his toys ; heirs not only to their 
father's gains, but the fortune made in foreign 
lands by 'Uncle George.' 

The first great grief which fell upon the Wan- 
stead circle came as news from San Lucar in Spain. 
18 



SEA-GENERAL PENN. 

An English factor living in a Spanish port. George 
Penn was watched with jealous eyes by native 
priests and monks who had unluckily, access to 
his house as the confessors of his wife and of the 
sisters of his wife. These women were not only 
Catholics in faith but subjects of Philip the 
Fourth. Now George was a prudent man ; a fac- 
tor who kept his shop and held his tongue ; so 
that malice could find no flaw in him even though 
it had three or four female confessions every week 
to work upon. But as he grew in wealth these 
priests grew angry at his blameless life. How 
could a heretic be a blameless man ? Was he ever 
seen at mass? Was he known to confess his sins? 
Did he honour the Spanish saints? Spies were set 
upon him ; his ^ife was questioned ; his wife's sis- 
ters were examined ; and when nothing could be 
found against him that would justify the civil 
power in dealing with his case they got from the 
Holy Ofiice in Seville a secret warrant for his ar- 
rest. 

Officers came down from Seville to San Lucar, 
broke into his house, anathematized him seized 
his papers and books impounded his goods his 
plate, his jewels, his furniture, his horses, and his 
slaves. They seized the things in his house and 
magazines, as well as those on board his ships in 
the port. Having got his person and his goods, 
they separated him from his ^ife and then with 
holy incantations, cast him out. body and soul, 
from the Church of Christ and the society of men. 

Nothing escaped the rapacity of these brigands ; 
from the wine in his cellar, to the nail in his wall. 
The property they seized was worth tweh^e thou- 
sand pounds. His wife was carried off he knew 
not whither; he himself was dragged to Seville, 
where he was cast into a dungeon, only eight 
19 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEXX. 

feet square, and dark as the grave. In this 
living tomb he was left with a loaf of bread and 
a jug of water. For seven days no one came near 
him ; and then the jailor brought him another loaf 
another jug of water, and disappeared. No one 
was allowed to visit him in his cell no letter or 
message was suffered to be sent out. He vanished 
from the world as completely as if the earth had 
opened in the night and sucked him in. 

At the end of the first month of his confinement 
there was a break in the monotony of his life. The 
masked familiars of the Holy Office came into his 
cell, took him by the arms, stript him naked, tied 
him fast to the iron bars of his dungeon door, and 
one of them, armed with a whip of knotted cords, 
dealt out fifty lashes on his back. Each month 
this flogging was repeated, the new stripes cross- 
ing and tearing up the former wounds until his 
body was one festering sore. And all this time he 
was unable to learn the name of his accuser and 
the nature of his offence. He could not see his 
wife. He could not learn whether she was alive or 
dead. 

At every blow they asked him to confess his 
crimes. What crimes? They could not say: he 
must confess of his own will and virtue. What 
was he to say? He would have told them any- 
thing, true or false, to stay their hands; for 
George was not a martyr ; and he only wished to 
live and trade in peace. 

Three years elapsed without producing the con- 
fessions wanted by the Holy Office. George was 
then brought into the trial-chamber, and in the 
presence of seven judges was accused of various 
crimes :— of being a heretic ; of denying some of 
the seven sacraments; of presuming to marry a 
Catholic lady ; of persuading his wife to change 
20 



SEA-GENERAL PENX. 

her creed ; of meaning to carry his wife into Eng- 
land ; of not hearing- mass in San Lucar ; of not 
confessing to a priest; of eating flesh on fast- 
days ; and of doubting the miracles wrought by 
Spanish saints. He pleaded not guilty. But in- 
stead of producing witnesses to prove his alleged 
crimes, the judges ordered him to be tortured in 
their presence, until he confessed the truth of 
what was charged against him. For a while his 
strength and resolution bore him up ; but his 
tormentors persevered, and at the end of four 
hours of excruciating and accumulating torments, 
he offered to confess anything they would suggest. 
Not satisfied with a confession which by the 
usages of Spain gave up his whole property to the 
Holy Office, the judges put him to the rack again, 
and by still more refined and delicate torture 
forced from him a terrible oath that he would 
live and die a Catholic, and would defend that 
form of faith at the risk of his life against every 
enemy, on pain of being burned to death. He 
was then cut down from the rack, placed on a 
hurdle, and conveyed to his former dungeon, where 
the surgeon had to set his broken limbs, and 
swathe his lacerated flesh. A little light was now 
let into his cell ; but ten weeks elapsed before he 
could be lifted from his bed of pain. 

Neither George himself nor those who were nurs- 
ing him back to life, expected that he would quit 
his cell for any other purpose than to make a hol- 
iday for the Sevillian mob. Near to his dungeon 
lay the public square in which heretics Jews, and 
Moors, were burnt in honour of Holy Church. 
To that infamous square every man condemned 
by the Inquisition, and whether he confessed his 
sins or not. was always led ; and George supposed 
that when his limbs were strong enough to bear 
21 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

his weight he would be marched like others to the 
place of death. 

He could not know as yet how strong of arm, 
how quick to save his country was becoming, 
since the Stuart dynasty was put away. 

Captain Penn while cruising off the coast of 
Munster, ran down a prize called the ,SY. Patrick, 
bound for Bilboa in Spain on board of which he 
found among his prisoners Don Juan de Urbina, 
secretary to the Spanish Viceroy of the Low 
Countries. Penn seized this great official, and 
stripping him naked thrust him into the hold. 
Don Juan talked big, as men like him are apt to 
do; and Seilor Bernardo, Philip's envoy in Lon- 
don, made complaints to the Council of the in- 
sult offered to a man of such high birth and such 
official rank. Of course, apologies were made; 
the Don was put into softer hands ; and Admiral 
Swanley was instructed to inquire into the con- 
duct of Captain Penn. Then came out the facts. 
If such acts of wild justice could not be openly 
maintained the tale of George's suffering went to 
the nation's heart. Don Juan was sent home in 
another ship, but the prisoner of the Holy Office 
in whose cause he had been seized, was snatched 
from the burning pile. 

So soon as ' Uncle George' could walk he was 
fetched from his cell in the Inquisition by the 
seven judges and their households; robed in the 
San Benito and carried in the midst of a great 
procession of monks and priests through the 
streets of Seville to the cathedral church. In this 
church a scaffold was raised up which they made 
him mount, so that every eye could see him as his 
sentence was slowly read by the secretary of the 
Inquisition. That sentence opened in the usual 
way. The prisoner was a heretic ; his goods were 
'22 



SEA-GENERAL PENN. 

confiscated ; hia wife was taken from him ; but for 
certain reasons hia life was to be spared. He was 
pardoned by holy Church ; but he was driven 
out from Spain for ever; his wife was given to a 
good Catholic for the salvation of her soul; and 
he was threatened with fire and fagot should he 
fall away from his newly-adopted faith. 

While the three children of Captain l*enn were 
growing up at Wanstead, Penn was getting rich 
and rising to higher rank. His prizes yielded him 
a great deal more than he got in pay ; and some 
of this money he laid out in land. At twenty- 
three he was Rear-admiral in the Irish Sea; at 
twenty-five he was Yice-admiral ; and at twenty- 
nine, under the Commonwealth, he was sent as 
Vice-admiral into the Straits of Gibraltar, the 
ports and cities of which he had known from his 
earliest years. 

Great changes were taking place on land, of 
which he took but distant note. Charles Stuart, 
for whom his father had bought hawks and horses, 
had lost his crown and life. The hero of Dunbar 
and Worcester was lord of all. But the change 
from parliament to protector wrought no change 
in Vice-admiral Penn, who stuck to his duties and 
avoided politics. When Cromwell announced to 
the fleet that he had taken the reins of power into 
his own hands, Penn was one of the first to send 
in his adhesion, with that of all the officers under 
his command. 

For the next few years the hand of genius was 
felt in every department of the administration. 
While the great powers of the State were in con- 
flict. Spain had treated us with haughty disdain, 
—France had insulted us at every turn —even Hol- 
land fancied we were no longer worthy of her ire. 
But Cromwell's arms soon taught them better. 
2.3 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Ireland punished and Scotland pacified, he turned 
his resolute face towards Holland. France and 
Spain. The Dutchman lay the nearest and had 
most provoked his wTath ; but Holland was pre- 
eminently a naval power, and in dealing with her 
his invincible infantry was of little use. Genius 
finds its own resources. Resolved to infuse into 
the navy, as he had already done into the army 
his own heroic spirit, he employed in his fleet two 
captains of his camp, Blake and Monk; but these 
ofiicers, though filled with an energy of spirit like his 
own, were in a great measure ignorant of the sea. 
All that courage, activity, and resolution could do 
he expected them to accomplish ; but he saw the 
necessity of placing by the side of these soldiers a 
worthy sea-captain, and for this important post 
he selected the young Admiral of the Straits. The 
Lord Protector knew that Penn was not at- 
tached to his person and government; but he 
needed his services; and seeing that Penn was a 
worldly man, and of the earth most earthy, he 
supposed that pensions and honours could secure 
his sword, if not his heart. WTiat Cromwell 
wanted was his sword. Vice-admiral Penn had 
no objection to fight the countrymen of his wife. 
He was a sailor, as he used to say, and must be 
faithful to his flag. 

When peace was made with Holland, Cromwell 
turned to Spain, the old and strenuous enemy of 
his country. England had a thousand scores to 
settle with the Spanish court; and two great ex- 
peditions were prepared in silence in the spring of 
1655 ; one expedition, under Sea-general Blake, to 
act in Europe, sweep the Spanish coasts, and fight 
the Spanish fleets wherever he could find them ; 
while a second expedition was to cross the ocean, 
search the Spanish main, alarm the coasts and 
24 



SEA-GENERAL PENN. 

islands, take possession of San Domingo and St. 
John's— if possible —and seize some portion of the 
continent such as Cartagena. Cromwell meant to 
break the power of Spain at sea and in the west. 

Penn had served as Vice-admiral under Blake, 
who was a Somersetshire man, and it was perhaps 
on Blake's suggestion that the second fleet was 
placed under Penn's command. Before he went on 
board the young Vice-admiral made his terms with 
Cromwell. Penn wanted money and he wanted 
rank. Both were heaped upon him by the Lord 
Protector. Under the pretence that an estate 
which Penn had bought near Cork had suffered 
by the civil war, Cromwell wrote a letter v\ith his 
own hand to the Irish commissioners, requesting 
that, in consideration of good and faithful service 
to the Commonwealth, lands of the full yearly 
value of three hundred pounds should be surveyed 
and set apart for Admiral Penn in a convenient 
place, near a castle or other fortified place, for 
their better security, and with a good house for 
him to live in. Cromwell made a special, even a 
personal, request that his Irish agents would obey 
this order in such a way as to leave no cause of 
trouble to either the Admiral or his family; so 
that they might enjoy the full benefit of this reward 
in peace while the gallant sailor was engaged in 
fighting his country's battles in a distant sea. 
This matter settled, there was nothing but the 
question of professional rank. Cromwell gave the 
young Admiral his heart's desire by raising him 
to the same high rank as Blake. Penn w^as the 
only regular sailor who was made a General of the 
Fleet. 

A few days after Penn set sail from Spithead. 
with these rewards and honours fresh about him. 
he despatched a secret offer to Prince Charles, 
25 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

then living at Cologne, to place the whole of his 
great fleet and army at the prince's disposal if 
his highness would indicate a port in which they 
would be received. 

Ever watching for a chance to rise, Sea-general 
Penn observed when Cromwell's fame was highest, 
that he stood upon his personal merit, while the 
nation was rather Royalist than Oliverian, The 
Lord Protector could not live for ever ; after him 
would come a feeble youth; and then the Com- 
monwealth might fall. In falling it would crush 
the men who served it ; but, for his part he would 
not be crushed. Penn cared no more, in truth for 
Charles than Oliver. The man for whom he toiled 
was Admiral Penn; and with a view to the se- 
curity of Admiral Penn he sent that secret mes- 
sage to Cologne. 

Charles thanked the sailor for his message, and 
he kept his eye on Penn in after days but for the 
moment he declined to act. Charles had no ports 
in which he could receive his ships no funds to 
pay the seamen, nothing for a fleet to do unless, 
like Rupert, he was minded to embark in a pirati- 
cal cruise. He told the young Sea-general to com- 
plete his voyage, and keep his loyalty for a bet- 
ter time. The exiled court were glad to see the 
Commonwealth at war with Spain for they were 
eager to make friends in Seville and Madrid. 
Penn's message, though they had to pass it by, 
was welcome as a sign of disaffection in the ser- 
vice and supposing that the offer would be made 
again they moved the King of Spain, as the most 
powerful enemy of their country, to allow them 
one of his ports in which to gather up their 
fleet. 

Though Cromwell knew about the offer and the 
answer to it, he was silent in the Council, and 
26 



SEA-GENERAL PEXX. 

allowed the fleet from Portsmouth to proceed upon 
her voyage. 

The expedition failed. Venables who command- 
ed the army (and was also oftering to de.^ert his 
flag) , was beaten under the walls of t>an Domingo, 
and but for the rapid march and onset of a body 
of sailors, sent by Penn to his assistance, would 
have been completely mauled. On falling back 
from Hispaniola the men were so incensed by the 
failure that Penn resolved to attack the island 
of Jamaica which he conquered and annexed to 
England at a very slight sacrifice of life. 

Sea-general Penn was struck with the resources 
and the beauties of this island, which in after 
years he made a subject of his constant talk. A 
keen examination of the soil and climate, gave 
him an idea of parting with his Irish lands and 
laying out his money in the new plantation. 

But on Penn's return the Lord Protector was 
in angry mood affecting to regard the failure of 
his great design as due to the incompetency of 
his chiefs. Land-general Venables threw the blame 
on Sea-general Penn ; Sea-general Penn threw the 
blame on Land-general Venables. For reasons 
which he kept a secret. Cromwell bade his pliant 
council strip them of their several ofiices and dig- 
nities, and eend them under escort to the Tower. 



27 



CHAPTER III. 

School and College ( 1655-1661. ) 

Admiral Penn's arrest (September 20. 1655 ) 
threw his family affairs into confusion. Margaret 
was at Wanstead with the younger children. Peg 
and Richard. William was at school in Chigwell. 
Uncle George had just arrived with proofs of his 
great losses by the Inquisition : twelve thousand 
pounds, besides his house, his business, and his 
wife. He was expecting Admiral Penn to aid 
him with the Lord Protector, but instead of 
finding his famous brother powerful at White- 
hall, he found him fretting in a dungeon of the 
Tower. 

Margaret fetched her son William to Wanstead, 
where he fell into a low and feverish state of mind. 
One day a sort of vision came to him. Sitting in 
his room he was surprised by a strange feeling in 
his heart, and by as strange a radiance in his 
chamber. What it was that filled his veins and 
flashed into his eyes he could not tell. He was 
not yet eleven years old. But as he sat alone, 
in wretched mood, and in a darkish room, he felt 
a joyous rush of blood along his veins, and saw 
his chamber fill with what he called a soft and 
holy light. It was a vision and a visitation. What 
it meant he could not say ; but that he felt the 
sudden joy and saw the sacred light, he knew 
and held so long as he could know and hold by 
any incident of his early life. 

The Admiral made every efi'ort to procure his 
freedom. He was soon aware that he must pay 
28 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE. 

a heavy price for his enlargement. He must crave 
a pardon from the Lord Protector; he must for- 
mally confess his faults; he must surrender his 
commission as General of the Fleet ; he must quit 
the service of his country. Nor were these condi- 
tions all. He was to live in future at his Irish 
house, near Cork, and was to have no share in 
the great distribution of Jamaica lands. Unable 
to do better, he was forced to sign these terms; 
the Tower was killing him ; but on resigning his 
commission to the Lord Protector he was set at 
large. Five weeks in the Tower had all but fretted 
him to death. 

Impoverished and dismissed — no longer paid as 
General of the Fleet — no longer ranked as claim- 
ant to a share of the Jamaica lands— no longer 
suffered to remain near London, Penn broke up 
his house at Wanstead. gathered in his little folk, 
and sailed, a poor and discontented man, for 
county Cork. Macroom, his future home, a town 
on the river Sullane. twenty miles west of Cork, 
had been the property of Lord Muskerry, one of 
the most vigorous partizans of Charles in Ireland. 
^Yhen the royal cause was lost, Macroom was 
seized by the victorious Roundheads, and the 
castle and estate were given by Cromwell's order 
to his 'faithful' servant. Admiral Penn. The Lord 
Protector's policy in Ireland was to plant in every 
shire an English colony, and when he gave a patch 
of land to any favourite, he was careful that it 
should be near a castle or a fort. Macroom was 
strong enough to shield an English colony. 
A troop of horse and company of foot were sta- 
tioned in the town, and Penn had been author- 
ised and expected to send out a body of skilful 
husbandmen. His term of power had been too 
short for much to have been done ; but some few 
29 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

English had arrived whose industry had much in- 
creased the worth of Cromwell's gift. 

For more than three years Admiral Penn resided 
with his wife and little ones at Macroom, engaged 
in planting his estate. His eldest son, to whom 
this planting w^as a lesson of immense importance, 
was a bright and forward lad from twelve to 
fiaeen years of age. Though tall and slim the boy 
was firmly knit. He liked to run and ride, to 
scull and sail, and had a passionate delight in 
country sports. In things of business he was al- 
most like a man. 

Besides the castle town, and manor of Macroom, 
Penn held the neighbouring castle, town, and 
manor of Killcrea the whole containing many 
thousand acres of good land, with much conven- 
ient wood. He bought more land from Roger 
Boyle, his friend and neighbour, whom he joined 
in drinking secret healths to Charles. He also 
prayed Lord Henry Cromwell, son of Oliver, for 
leases of some districts near his property alleging 
that he wished to tenant them with English hands. 
With sure and patient toil, assisted by his active 
son, who seemed to have a natural bent that way, 
the Admiral improved his lands; here mending 
roads, there forming nurseries, in a third place 
planting gardens, in a fourth place building farms. 
In three years the estate had risen in rental from 
something like three hundred pounds a-year to 
eight hundred and fifty-eight pounds a-year. 

Good tutors were in plenty at Macroom and 
Cork, and Penn the Younger made such rapid pro- 
gress in his learning that at fifteen he was ripe for 
Oxford and the Admiral, on talking with his 
friends, Ormonde and Boyle, resolved that he 
should go to Christ Church. 

This matter was arranged in 1659; a year of 
.30 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE. 

many changes in the Admiral's prospects. Crom- 
well died. So soon as sure intelligence of his death 
arrived in county Cork the Admiral put himself 
into correspondence with his royalist friends Boyle 
and Ormonde ; but on seeing how affairs went on 
in London they concluded that it would be well 
to wait events and not commit themselves by 
any overt act. They had not long to wait. Six 
months sufficed to wear out Richard Cromwell's 
force, and when the news of his deposition reached 
Macroom. Penn threw away his mask, declared 
for Charles the Second, and immediately set out 
for the Low Countries to kiss his master's hand. 

Charles was so glad to see the Admiral that he 
knighted him on the spot, and promised him his 
lasting favour. Penn returned to England where 
he found himself on Monk's suggestion called to 
serve in parliament, with his old comrade Sea- 
general Montagu for the town of Weymouth. 
When the resolution for recalling Charles the 
Second w.-is adopted by the two houses. Montagu 
was named commander of the royal fleet and 
Penn took ship with him. in order to be one 
among the first to throw himself at his future 
sovereign's feet. 

The King was kind to him; but Charles had 
friends much closer to his heart than Admiral 
Penn. Among these closer friends was Lord Mus- 
kerry, his father's partizan. whom he had re- 
cently created Earl of Clancarty. Lord Clan- 
carty's house was that Macroom which Penn had 
been improving with his capital and skill. The 
King was fixed on giving Lord Clancarty all that 
he had lost; the Penns must therefore quit Ma- 
croom. His Majesty was pleased to say that they 
should have some other lands ; but they must 
leave at once, in order that Clancarty might go 
31 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

home in peace. To soften this hard blow, the King 
appointed Penn a Commissioner of the Navy, 
with a salary of five hundred pounds a-year, and 
lodgings in Navy Gardens, and he promised to 
make the Lords Justices of Ireland find among 
the forfeited estates of Roundheads something 
that would more than pay him for his losses in 
Macroom. 

Lady Penn being housed in her fine lodgings 
at the Navy Gardens, Admiral Penn was happy, 
though he had to keep a wistful eye on the Irish 
lands. He gave good dinners, kept high company, 
resorted, as the fashion led him, to the playhouse 
and the cock-pit. Lady Penn set up her coach. 
The Admiral, who had been a Puritan among the 
Puritans, became a roystering blade with the re- 
turning Cavaliers. He supped at the Dolphin and 
the Three Crowns, took the comedians into his 
favour, lived on easy terms with the play-writers, 
and paid his compliments to every pretty hussy 
on the stage. Dick Broome, the profligate author 
of ' The Jovial Crew,' became a guest in his house. 
Pepys calls this libeller 'Sir William's poet;' and 
the Navy Gardens were a scene for romps and 
jinks that faintly echoed the festivities of White- 
hall. 

Sir William followed in the wake of greater men, 
for he was bent on rising in the world. His Irish 
friends were gaining great rewards from Charles. 
Boyle was created Earl of Orrery, and named Lord 
President of Munster. Ormonde, with the higher 
grade of marquis, was become Lord Steward of 
the Household and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
Penn was made Governor of the town and Cap- 
tain of the fort of Kinsale; a post which gave him 
the title of Admiral of Ireland, with fees amount- 
ing to four hundred pounds a-year. Penn had 
32 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE. 

therefore gained in these two oflBces of Naval 
Commissioner and Governor of Kinsale nine hun- 
dred pounds a-year from the grateful King. But 
Charles, who wished to bind him closer to his 
person, wrote with his own hand to the Lords 
Justices in Dublin that a good estate, of equal 
value to the one restored to Lord Clancartj, 
must be set aside for Penn in county Cork, as 
near as might be to his port and castle of 
Kinsale. 

When Admiral Penn had put his house in order, 
he was anxious that his son. — whose talents 
seemed to him of the finest order, and whose love 
of business and open-air exercises promised to 
make him a man of active habits and worldly am- 
bition. — should proceed to the University. In Oc- 
tober Penn the Younger went to Oxford, where he 
matriculated as a gentleman commoner at Christ 
Church. Oxford was then the seat of wit as well 
as of scholarship. In the chair of the Dean sat 
the famous controversialist. Dr. John Owen, soon 
to become an object of royalist persecution. 
South, too long repressed, had now obtained a 
hearing, and. as Orator to the University, he was 
preparing those sermons which are still regarded 
by lovers of old literature as models of grace. 
Jack Wilmot too was there, scattering about him 
those gleams of wit and devilry which in after-life 
endeared the Earl of Rochester to his graceless 
King. Most notable of all the ornaments of Ox- 
ford was John Locke — an unknown student of 
Christ Church, devoting in a sequestered cloister 
his serene and noble intellect to the study of medi- 
cine. Being twelve years older than Penn. it is 
not probable that these two men contracted more 
than a casual acquaintance at Christ Church; 
but in later life they met again— rivals in legisla- 
3 33 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

tion and mediators for each other in the hour of 
need. 

Penn entering on his academical career under 
the auspices of the King and Duke of York, ob- 
tained a good position in the circle of his college. 
As a student he gave satisfaction to his superiors ; 
as a boater and rider he became a favourite with 
his set. His reading at this time was solid and ex- 
tensive, and his acquisition of knowledge was as- 
sisted by an excellent memory. For a boy. he left 
Oxford well acquainted with history and theology. 
Of languages he had more than ordinary share. 
Either then or afterwards he read the chief writers 
of Greece and Italy in their native tongues ; and 
gained a thorough knowledge of French. German. 
Dutch and Italian. Later in life he added to this 
stock of languages two or three dialects of the 
Red men. But his pleasure and recreation while 
at Christ Church was in reading the doctrinal dis- 
cussions to which the Puritans gave rise. The 
court of Charles had infected the higher classes of 
society before the Restoration actually took place ; 
and that mixture of vice and wit, politeness and 
irreligion, which was soon to characterise the 
youth of England, was already turning the Uni- 
versity into a den of rakes and dupes. There were 
not wanting protests. Many of the young men 
there collected had in early youth some better no- 
tion of religion and morality, — and they resisted 
every attempt to introduce a more lax and court- 
ly ceremonial into the services of the Church. 

Dr. Owen, made Dean of Christ Church by order 
of Parliament in 1658. was ejected from his office 
to make room for Dr. Reynolds ; a change in- 
tended, among other things to prepare for the 
introduction of a more picturesque ritual than 
had latterly been in use. This measure was un- 
34 



SCHOOL AND COLLEGE. 

popular with the Puritan students, and Owen 
kept up a constant correspondence with the mem- 
bers of his college, in which he incited them to re- 
main firm in their rejection of papistical rites. Tin- 
der his high sanction, many of them opposed the 
innovations of the court. William Penn stood 
foremost. From the trials of his Uncle George he 
had learnt to loathe the practices of a persecuting 
Church. Yet it was not without pain that Penn 
found his conscience at war with the jirinces whom 
his father delighted to serve. From the frequent 
references to these times made by him in after-life, 
it is evident that his sufferings were acute. As the 
light of truth dawned on his mind he was sur- 
prised and terrified to find how dark all was out- 
side. Everywhere, to use his own expression, he 
saw that a reign of darkness and debauchery was 
commencing ; and his hope for the future came to 
lie in a vague, romantic fancy, that a virtuous 
and holy empire free from bigotry and from the 
formalism of a State religion — might be founded in 
that far-off Western World which had so often 
formed a topic at his father's hearth. In this 
fancy his mind discovered a real 'opening of joy.' 
While the quarrel of Cavalier and Puritan was 
raging at Oxford, an obscure person, named 
Thomas Loe— a layman of that city— took to 
preaching a new doctrine which was taught by 
one George Fox. The neglect of forms and cere- 
monies in the ritual of the Friends as the New 
People called themselves, attracted Penn and 
others, who like him were in revolt against the 
restoration of popish usages ; and going to hear 
the preaching of this strange word the young men 
got excited and returned to hear. Their absence 
from chapel was noticed ; their superiors became 
alarmed ; the young defaulters were arraigned and 
35 



Lin^ OF WILLIAM PENN. 

fined. This indignity drove them wild ; and as the 
fines were laid at the moment when a new rule 
about college gowns came out. the youngsters 
banded themselves together to oppose the orders 
of the court by force. They marched through the 
streets. They not only refused to wear the new 
gown, but declared war against all who put it on. 
In the gardens of Christ Church, in the quadrangles 
of colleges, they set upon the courtly youths and 
tore the vestments from their backs. In these 
affairs young Penn was always in the front ; and 
on the facts being proved against him he was cen- 
sured and expelled. 



36 



CHAPTER IV. 
The Wokli) (1661-1666). 

On hearing of his sou's offence of Non-conform- 
ity, the Admiral was deeply grieved. The world 
was going well with him. He was a Naval Com- 
missioner, a Member of Parliament. Governor of 
Kinsale, Admiral of Ireland, a Member of the 
Council of Munster, and a favourite of the Duke of 
York. The King was kind to him and something 
more. The Lords Justices had found him an es- 
tate in Shangarry Castle, county Cork. An Eng- 
lish peerage lay within his reach, and in his choice 
of title he had fixed his mind on Weymouth, the 
port for which he sat in parliament. That such a 
lad as his son \Yilliam. with his love of sport and 
business, should become a ranter and a mystic, 
was so droll a fancy, that the Admiral could only 
laugh it off. Yet he was troubled with reports 
from Oxford, and his rivals at the Navy Gardens 
noted with a secret joy his clouded brow, his wist- 
ful manner, and his silent tongue. 

The boy was brought to London, to the Navy 
Gardens, in the hope that a course of hard dining 
and late dancing might do him good. His moth- 
er. Lady Penn. was of a merry mood, and Peg, 
his sister, was a perfect romi). Sir William kept a 
pleasant table ; entertained the best of company ; 
enjoyed a supper at the Bear, and was a frequent 
visitor in the pit of Drary Lane. Broome's com- 
edy of the 'Jovial Crew,' a satire on the Puritans, 
was then being acted at the old Cock-pit, and Sir 
William took his son to see it. 'To the theatre.' 
^7 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

writes Pepys under date of November 1, 1661, 'to 
see the Jovial Crew. At my house Sir William sent 
for his son, William Penn, lately come from Ox- 
ford.' William Penn was not corrected in his no- 
tions by the Jovial Crew. 

Sir William tried all courses with his son. He 
shut .him up; he took him to the play; he had 
him whipt ; he joked and laughed at him ; he treat- 
ed him with silent rage. But nothing he could do 
prevailed. The boy continued in a low and serious 
frame of mind ; he shunned society ; he sang no bal- 
lads ; nay. he even gave up dog and gun. He 
wrote to Dr. Owen, who replied to him, as to a 
favourite pupil ; and the young man could not be 
induced, by dice and cards, by plays and suppers, 
to admit that he was wrong in resisting the 
King's commands about wearing the college 
gown. 

Yet every one who came near Penn observed 
that he was strong in wit and purpose, even as 
he was soft of face. Every one liked him, and 
spoke well of him ; and of those who knew him 
well, the Admiral loved him most. To quarrel with 
this favourite, more than was needful for his good, 
was what the scheming Admiral had neither will 
nor power to do ; and after giving much thought 
to what he ought to try he changed his method 
of proceeding with his son. It occurred to him 
that the best way to withdraw a young man from 
sombre thought and inferior company would be 
to send him to the gay capital of France. His 
son had not yet seen the world .—he proposed to 
him to set out immediately for Paris. Some of his 
college friends were going into France to study, 
and it was soon arranged that he should join 
them. Some of these young men were of the high- 
est rank, and every door in France would open 
38 



THE WORLD. 

to their knock. At Paris, where they stayed a 
few weeks only. Penn was presented to Louis 
Qiiatorze and became a welcome guest at court. 
There he made the acquaintance of Robert Spen- 
cer, son of the first Earl of Sunderland, and Lady 
Dorothy Sydney— sister of the famous Algernon 
Sydney. France was very gay. and in a few weeks 
William Penn forgot the gravity of his life. Re- 
turning late one night from a party, he was ac- 
costed in the dark street by a man who shouted 
to him in angry tones to draw and defend him- 
self. At the same moment a sword gleamed past 
his eyes. The fellow would not listen to reason. 
Penn he said, had treated him with contempt. 
He had bowed his head and taken off his hat in 
salutation : — his courtesy had been slighted, and 
he would have satisfaction made to his wounded 
pride. In vain the young Englishman protested 
he had not seen him — that he could have no mo- 
tive for offering such an insult to a stranger. The 
more he showed the absurdity of the quarrel the 
more enraged his assailant grew ; he would say no 
more — the only answer which he deigned was a 
pass with his rapier. Penn's blood was now 
stirred ; and whipping his sword from its scabbard, 
he stood to the attack. There was but little light ; 
yet several persons were attracted by the clash of 
steel; and a number of roysterers gathered round 
to see fair play. A few passes proved that Penn 
was the more expert swordsman ; and a dexterous 
movement threw the French gallant's blade into 
the air. He might have run the man through, 
and those who gathered round the combatants 
expected him to do so. Penn picked up the fallen 
sword, and gave it back with his politest bow. 

On hearing how his son was living at Paris, 
Admiral Penn felt glad that he was far away from 
31) 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Puritans like John Owen and Quakers like Thomas 
Loe. He thought of a career in life for him, and 
spoke to Ormonde on the subject. Ormonde said 
the lad would make a soldier, and the Admiral 
fixed his mind on the career of arms. But William 
was too young- for life in camp, and he had much 
as yet to learn from books. He must be sent to 
school. His father, therefore, made arrangements 
with Professor Amyrault of Saumur, on the river 
Loire, to board and teach him, and in sunny An- 
jou Penn the Younger spent the two years which 
he should have passed in Oxford, reading the 
classics and the fathers, pondering over theologi- 
cal mysteries, and mastering the poetry, the lan- 
guage, and the history of France. 

At nineteen years of age he left Saumur and 
passed through Switzerland into Italy. Spencer 
was a companion of his travels, and in some part 
of his journey he fell in with Spencer's uncle, Alger- 
non Sydney, then in exile, and became at once his 
pupil and his friend. 

In the summer days of 1664, while William Penn 
was not yet twenty years of age, he was recalled 
to London by his father, who was no less eager 
to see him back on private than on public 
grounds. 

Uncle George, who had been teasing Charles for 
justice several years, died before his case was 
heard in council, leaving to his younger brother 
all his claims on Spain. Poor George had trudged 
from park to lodge waylaying Charles and James, 
and forcing them to hear his plaints, until the 
King, who knew that he had suffered grievous 
wrongs, proposed to send him to Madrid as envoy 
to the court of Philip the Fourth. If George were 
in Madrid, as envoy from his sovereign, justice 
might be done to him ; but the appointment was 
40 



THE WORLD. 

hardly made before the sufferer died ; when all his 
claims against the Spanish Crown devolved on 
Admiral Penn — a vast addition to his cares and 
a perpetual drain upon his purse. The sum origi- 
nally seized at San Lucar was twelve thousand 
pounds in English money. Twenty-one years had 
passed, and as the price of money in the South 
of Spain was ten or twelve per cent, the claim 
had grown from twelve to forty thousand pounds. 
If Penn demanded less he would be moderate. 
This affair required attention which the Admiral 
could not give. Sir William was in fact at sea. 

So soon as Charles the Second was restored the 
Dutch revived their ancient dream of naval su- 
premacy, and their pretensions had at length out- 
wearied the patience of Whitehall. War was de- 
clared. James. Duke of York, Lord Admiral of 
England, divided his fleet into three squadrons, 
one of which he gave to Prince Rupert, a second 
to Lord Sandwich, and the third he kept in hand. 
Not one of these commanders had ever directed a 
great naval fight ; not one was qualified, by ex- 
perience and ability, to contend against veterans 
like De Ruyter and De Witt. Sandwich was a 
soldier, Rupert a freebooter, and James, though he 
had distinguished himself under Turenne. was yet 
a stranger to the quarterdeck. It was not safe 
to trifle with such seamen as the Dutch. James 
wanted the best captains, the best sailors in the 
kingdom, and in spite of Sandwich's jealousy and 
Rupert's rage, the royal Duke consulted Admiral 
Penn. Sir William Penn advised him to employ 
in his service the old and dauntless captains of the 
Commonwealth. ' Take no notice of their religion, 
and I will answer for their courage.' said Penn. 
The Duke of York had strength enough to resist 
the royalist clamour when this advice was known ; 
41 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and many of Blake's old captains were appointed 
to commands by James. That all the benefit of 
Penn's skill and courage might be given to his 
country Penn was named Great Captain Com- 
mander, and ordered to take his station on the 
Duke's flag-ship, to direct the most important 
movements of the fleet. 

\Yhile he was thus employed at sea, Sir \Yilliani 
thought it well to have his son at home ; in part 
to watch the family affairs in Cork in part to 
save him from arrest in France. The French were 
leaning towards alliance with the Dutch and if 
the treaty, then in secret preparation should be 
signed, a hostage like the Admiral's eldest son was 
very likely to be seized. As fast as post could 
carry him Penn returned from Italy through 
Savoy, and arrived about the middle of August, 
1664:, at the Navy Gardens to the great delight 
of Peg and Lady Penn. 

The boy was nearly twenty years of age ; but 
what a change from the moody, silent lad who 
went from home two years ago ! He had a fine 
outside ; a little over-fine, some critics said. ' A 
most modish person' little Mr. Pepys exclaimed; 
'grown a fine gentleman.' He wore French panta- 
loons ; he carried his rapier in the French mode ; 
he doffed his hat on going into a room. His 
French was perfect and he spoke like one who had 
seen the Alps and the Italian cities. 'Something 
of learning he has got ' wTote Pepys ' but a great 
deal, if not too much of the vanity of the French 
garb, and affected manner of gait and speech.' In 
person he had grown into a graceful, strong, and 
handsome man. His face was mild and almost 
womanly in its beauty ; his eye was soft and full ; 
his brow was open and ample; his features, well 
defined, approached the ideal ; and the lines about 
42 



THE WORLD. 

his mouth were sweet, yet firm. Like Milton, he 
wore his hair long and parted in the centre of the 
forehead, from which it fell over his neck and 
shoulders in massive ringlets. In mien and man- 
ner he was formed by nature stamped by art — a 
gentleman. 

The Admiral took care to drop all reference to 
the past. To lessen what was still the risk of a 
return to old companions, he kept the young man 
constantly engaged. He carried him to the gal- 
lery at Whitehall —presented him to great persons, 
— made him pay court visits. The Navy Gardens 
rang with feast and jollity, for Peg was now 
growing up and Lady Penn was more inclined for 
merriment than ever. Sir William placed his son 
as a student at Lincoln's Inn, that he might ac- 
quire some scraps of law. Allowing him no leisure 
to indulge in idle fancies he employed him on the 
King's business and in his ovsti private affairs. 
There seemed no fear that he would now go wrong. 

Then came the crisis of the war. On the 24th 
of March, 1665, the Duke of York, accompanied 
by Penn as Great Captain Commander, and many 
great persons, went on board the Royal Charles. 
The younger Penn was on his father's staff, and 
saw during the few days he remained at sea some 
service between the Dutch and English fleets. 
Meanwhile his mother and the ladies left behind in 
the Navy Gardens kept high jinks. ' Going to my 
Lady Batten,' says Pepys, 'there found a great 
many women with her, in her chamber, merry ; 
my Lady Penn and her daughter among others, 
when my Lady Penn flung me down on the bed, 
and herself and others one after another upon 
me and very merry we were.' Admiral Batten 
was on board the fleet with Admiral Penn. The 
little Clerk of the Acts was the only man left 
43 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

in the Navy Gardens to make pastime for these 
merry wives. Dick Broome himself could hardly 
have imagined a more 'jovial crew.' 

On Sunday, twenty-third day of April, 1665. 
Penn the Younger landed at Harwich with de- 
spatches from the Duke of York to Charles, and 
from Sir William Coventry to Lord Arlington. 
Secretary of State. He pressed for horses, as the 
Duke of York's instructions to him were — that he 
should get on shore, should ride as hard as horse 
could carry him, should go at once to the King's 
apartments, and should make a full report of 
what was being done at sea. By tearing on all 
night Penn reached Whitehall before the sun was 
up, and finding that the King was still in bed, he 
sent a message to Lord Arlington, who rose at 
once and passed into his master's bedroom. 
Charles leaped up on hearing that despatches 
from the Duke were come, and running into the 
ante-room, met William Penn. ' Oh, it's you 1 
How is Sir William?' Having read the Duke's let- 
ter, chatted with the messenger, and asked about 
Sir William several times, Charles bade the youth 
go home and get to bed. 

In June the fight came off; a striking victory 
for the English flag; a glory reaped by James, as 
first in rank, but which his royal highness was 
too frank in spirit not to share with Admiral 
Penn. In the same month the plague broke out in 
London, and the havoc wrought by this disease 
was chiefly in the districts lying round the Tower. 
It was a thing to make the merriest romp in the 
Navy Gardens pause. 

When Admiral Penn came home, he was an- 
noyed to see how great a change this plague had 
wTought in his eldest son. The youth was grave 
and silent; he had left off speaking French; had 
U 



THP] WORLD. 

ceased to carry his hat in hand ; and all but 
ceased to show himself at court. His days were 
spent in reading, and the friends who came to him 
were men of sober life. Again the Admiral's hopes, 
now nearer fruit than ever, were in check. What 
could he do with such a moody youth? Suppose 
the lad turned ranter? He had tried the 'Jovial 
Crew' before. A good idea struck him. William 
might be sent to Ireland ; first to Dublin, where 
the Duke of Ormonde would be glad to see him ; 
afterwards to Shangarry Castle, where there was 
much for him to do, not only on his family es- 
tate, but in his oflBce at Kinsale. 

To Ireland he was sent. In order to provide him 
with abundant work, he was appointed Clerk of 
the Cheque at Kinsale harbour, and encouraged 
to believe that if he felt inclined to enter His 
Majesty's service he might get his father's com- 
pany of foot. 



45 



CHAPTER V. 
Father and Son (1666-1667). 

The Penns were fond of county Cork,. in which 
they had already spent some years and as their 
new estate — when it was free to them — would be 
larger than any one they could hope to buy in 
either Somerset or Essex, Admiral Penn was 
scheming for a settlement of his family in that 
picturesque and fertile shire. His kinsmen wished 
him to recover Penn's Lodge near Minety ; but the 
place was small and he had grown too great for 
the ambition of a country squire. His house at 
Chigwell was too paltry for the dignity of a peer. 
Shangarry Castle with the lands which had been 
set apart for him at Postilion and Inchy. gave him 
what he could not find in England. — an address, a 
residence, and a rental of a thousand pounds 
a-year. His eyes were therefore turned towards 
county Cork, as likely to become his future 
home. 

Penn sailed for Dublin ; where he waited on the 
Duke of Ormonde. Before going down to Cork, 
he was to see Sir George Lane, the Irish secre- 
tary, and make as many friends as he could win 
at court. Lord Ossory, the Duke's eldest son was 
absent from Dublin but Lord Arran was at home, 
and he and William Penn became fast friends. 
The Duke was pleased with Penn and in a week or 
two accounts were sent to the Admiral assuring 
him that in separating his son from his London 
associates he had turned the current of his 
thoughts. Instead of moping in his room, the 
4(5 



FATHER AND SON. 

youth was always in the circle gay and bright, 
with pretty foreign manners and a spirit to at- 
tempt the boldest things. The Butlers were a 
family of soldiers and the pomp and circumstance 
of war were topmost in the thoughts of Arran and 
his comrades. Penn was not behind these young- 
sters. While he was in Dublin, waiting on the 
court a mutiny took place at C'arrickfergus (May. 
1666). where the insurgents seized the castle and 
alarmed the country-side from Antrim to Belfast. 
To Arran was assigned the duty of suppressing 
this revolt, and Penn took service with his 
friend. The mutineers fought well, but bit by bit 
were driven into the fort and then the fort itself 
was stormed. Young Penn was talked of as the 
coolest of the cool, the bravest of the brave. 
Lord Arran was delighted with him ; for the young 
swordsman of Paris had become the proud sol- 
dier of Carrickfergus ; and the Duke at once wTote 
off to tell the Admiral he was ready to confer on 
his son William that command of the company at 
Kinsale, which they had talked about for him be- 
fore the lad returned from France. 

Though Penn could not be made into a boon 
companion, a friend of comedians, and a partner 
in the romps and jinks of the Navy Gardens, there 
was still a chance of seeing him grow up into a 
soldier of his country and a bearer of his cross,— 
a hero of the stamp of Thomas Grey. The glory 
won at Carrickfergus made him long to get his 
company. The fit was on him and he wanted to 
appear at Kinsale as Captain Penn instead of 
Clerk of the Cheque. His zeal amused and grati- 
fied his parents; but the Admiral had begun to 
change his plans. Affairs were looking ill at 
court ; Sir William saw no chance of going to sea 
again ; and he was talking of retiring to Shan- 
47 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

garry Castle and his government of Kinsale. If 
they should go to Cork, it would be well to keep 
the offices they had got; but if his son received 
his company of foot he must lose his highly prof- 
itable Clerkship of the Cheque. 

'Well, Sir/ said the Duke of Ormonde to his 
guest before his courtiers, 'has Sir William given 
you his company at Kinsale?' 

'He has promised it, your grace,' replied young 
Penn ; ' and your lordship has promised to favour 
his request when made.' 

'But has he written nothing?' 

'He is far from London, and is busy fitting out 
the fleet.' 

The Admiral affected to regard his son as being 
too young for such a post as Captain at Kin- 
sale. When Penn was eager, he requested him to 
live a 'sober life.' and told him in the plainest 
terms he was too 'young' and 'rash.' Heroes at 
forty-five are apt to rail at heroes of twenty-two. 
The veteran, when he told his son not to let his 
'desires' outrun his 'discretion,' forgot that he 
was himself a captain at twenty-one. Before the 
vision of a life in camp and field was gone for 
ever, Penn had himself painted with his harness on 
his back. It was the only portrait for which he 
ever sat; and thus the single record which the 
world possesses of a man whose name is Peace 
displays him in a coat of shining steel. 

When he had warned his son to live a 'sober' 
life at Kinsale, the Admiral gave him hints about 
doing his duty to the crown, yet making money 
in his office of the Cheque. 

The post was one of some account, A Clerk of 

the Cheque had to deal with captains of ships ; to 

keep the poll-books; and to certify the accuracy 

of all accounts. He had the charge of govern- 

48 



FATHER AND SON. 

ment stores and property, civil and warlike. He 
had to give out rations and supplies, and to see 
that the musters on board each ship agreed with 
the entries on the books. As Clerk of the Cheque 
Penn would live in county Cork, within easy 
reach of the family estate, which also needed his 
constant care. 

Sir William's old friend. Roger. Earl of Orrery 
(known among the literary and scientific Boyles 
as poet and dramatist) , was living at Cork as 
President of Munst«r, and in this able and bril- 
liant nobleman Penn soon found a steadfast 
friend. 

Penn resided chiefly at Kinsale. attending to the 
duties of his office ; giving out rope and tar. pay- 
ing seamen's wages, counting tallies, and living, 
as the Admiral wished him to live, a 'sober' life. 
His superiors in the King's service were well 
pleased with him ; Lord Orrery gave him the rank 
of Ensign in a company of horse ; and during the 
darker days of the Dutch war we hear of Ensign 
Penn running to and fro ; fitting out ships, throw- 
ing chains across the harbour, rallying soldiers in 
the fort. It was still on the cards that William 
Penn might come to be Captain Penn. 

While Ensign Penn was running to and fro about 
the business of his post, he kept an eye on his 
own affairs at Shangarry Castle. As in every 
other grant of forfeited lands, a multitude of suits 
sprang up ; the royal warrant was disputed ; and 
the tenant, Colonel Wallis. was a man who would 
not yield to either duke or king. In vain the 
Lords Justices showed him the King's own words. 
' The King has no right to give away these lands ; 
the law alone can say if they were forfeit to the 
crown.' Much prudence was required in dealing 
with Colonel Wallis. but the young and soft nego- 
4 49 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

tiator brought the fiery old soldier to a calmer 
frame of mind. 

In London things were jogging on as usual. 
Margaret Penn had found 'a servant' in Antony 
Lowther, of Maske, in Yorkshire; a man of good 
family, wealthy, and devoted to her. Sir William 
was either at the court the Navy Office or the 
playhouse daily, with Sir William Coventry, Ad- 
miral Batten, or some other comrade, pushing his 
fortunes and deserving all he got. The Admiral 
was liked by all his equals ; and enjoyed the high- 
est favour of the King and Duke of York. Though 
growing old (and Pepys adds, 'ugly'), Lady 
Penn kept up her spirits. 'Supped at home, and 
very merry,' says their garrulous neighbour, 'and 
about nine to Mrs. Mercer's gate .... and there 
mighty merry ; my Lady Penn and Peg going 
thither with us. and Nan Wright, till about twelve 
at night ; flinging our fireworks and burning one 
another, and the people over the way ; and at 
last our business being most spent, we went into 
Mrs. Mercer's, and there mighty merry, smutting 
one another with candle-grease and soot, till most 
of us were like devils.' Even these high jinks were 
nothing to what came in the early hours. Pepys 
carried the whole party to his lodgings in the 
Navy Office, where they drank still more and then 
began to reel and dance. Pepys and two other 
men put on women's clothes. They dressed the 
maid-servant like a boy, and got her to dance a 
jig. 'Nan Wright, my wife and Peg Penn' says 
the Navy Clerk, 'put on periwigs; thus we spent 
till 'three or four in the morning; mighty merry, 
and then parted, and to bed.' A very jovial crew 1 

It was in London, not at Kinsale or Dublin, that 
the question of the Irish lands was to be settled. 
The Land Commissioners appointed by the Crown 
50 



FATHER AND SON. 

to hear the multitude of cases which had risen dur- 
ing twenty years of grants, confiscations, forfeit- 
ures, and restorations were then sitting ; but the 
Admiral had begun to feel a greater confidence in 
his son's tact and judgment than his own. He 
wrote to his son, desiring hiui to get the family 
affairs into an orderly state and then come over 
and see the Commissioners ; at the same time giv- 
ing him some worldly hints as to the conduct of 
the victualling department of Kinsale Castle, and 
begging him to make the passage in calm weather, 
so as to run no risk. Penn joyfully obeyed his 
father's summons, as he had not seen his mother 
and sister for a long time, and he arrived in Lon- 
don in the month of November. The business was 
arranged. After hearing evidence on both sides, 
the Land Commissioners confirmed the grant of 
Shangarry Castle to Sir William Penn. 

Assured of this addition to his fortune, the Ad- 
miral was less intent about his brother George's 
claims. He set up several coaches ; he arranged 
his daughter's marriage with Lowther ; and in the 
face of his expected barony of Weymouth, talked 
of buying Wanstead House. 

Antony and Peg were married, rather quietly, 
on the 15th of February, 1667. Sir William gave 
his daughter a large fortune; some said fifteen 
thousand pounds I His cousin, John Gorges, mem- 
ber for Cirencester, begged him to purchase the 
old place in Wiltshire; but Penn's Lodge, the 
^genteel ancient house.' was not a big one, and 
his thoughts were steadily directed towards the 
county Cork, his future home. Peg's dress and 
jewels were like those of a duchess ; and neither the 
King nor the King's ministers had a coach so fine 
as hers. 

When Peg was happily married, Penn returned 
51 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

to Cork, where he was wanted much. His father 
saw him go with pleasure ; for the romps and feasts 
of the Navy Gardens drove him into moody ways ; 
and in despatching him to Ireland he was thinking 
only of the active life awaiting him in county 
Cork, the duties of his office, and the care of his 
estate. 

Soon after Penn arrived, he heard that Thomas 
Loe the Quaker was about to preach in Cork. 
He went to hear him. wondering how his riper 
judgment would receive the eloquence that had 
stirred him when at Christ Church. Loe gave out 
his text, 'There is a faith that overcomes the 
world, and there is a faith that is overcome by 
the world,' a topic but too well adapted to his 
state of mind. That evening Penn became a 
Friend. 

Attending Loe's services, he soon began to taste 
the cup for which he had exchanged the world. In 
no corner of these islands were the Quakers treat- 
ed fairly, and least of anywhere in county Cork. 
Ignorant magistrates supposed they were the 
Cromwellites come back without their swords ; and 
only to be ruled with whips and jails. On Tues- 
day, September 3, 1667, a meeting of these people 
was called in Cork ; a body of police and soldiers 
broke upon them, took the congregation pris- 
oners, and carried them before the mayor. On see- 
ing in this crowd, young Ensign Penn, lord of 
Shangarry Castle, the mayor proposed to set him 
free on giving his word to keep the peace; but 
Penn denied that in meeting for worship, either 
he or any of his fellow-prisoners had been guilty 
of a breach of law. He would not give his word. 
' Unless you give bonds for your good behaviour,' 
said the mayor, 'I must commit you with the 
rest.' 

52 



FATHER AND SON. 

'On what authority do you act?' 

'A proclamation of the year 1660/ replied the 
mayor. Penn knew that proclamation well. It 
was an act against the Fifth monarchy-men ; fiery 
souls, with whom king-killing was not murder; 
and he told the mayor of Cork that these poor 
Quakers met to worship God, and not to pull 
down thrones and states. The mayor was zealous 
for the King, and as the heir of Shangarry Castle 
would not yield, he too was lodged in jail. 

From his prison Penn wrote to Orrery, as Pres- 
ident of Munster. Lord Orrery sent an order to 
the mayor of Cork for Penn's discharge ; but the 
incident made known to all the gossips of Cork 
and Dublin that Ensign Penn. the volunteer of 
Carrickfergus. had taken up with a lot of ranters 
and canters. His reply to these scorners was an 
open appearance among the Friends, as one of 
that persecuted sect. 

The Admiral's friends in Dublin wrote to warn 
Sir William of his son's relapse. The Admiral 
was beside himself with rage. Was this the end of 
all his arts? Recalling his son to London, where 
he arrived a few days before Christmas, 1667. 
Sir William met him u^th a frown, which passed 
away as he observed his manner and attire. 
The young man's bearing was polite and easy, 
and his dress, adorned with lace and ruffles, sword 
and plume, was that of gentlemen at court. 
But in a few days he was undeceived. Observing 
that his son omitted to unbonnet, as the newest 
fashion was at court, the Admiral asked him what 
he meant. 

'I am a Friend.' the young man said, 'and 
Friends take off the hat to none but God.' 

Then how would he behave at court? Would 
he, a king's officer. Ensign Penn, Clerk of the 
53 



LIFE or WILLIAM PENN. 

Cheque, the son of a Navy Commissioner, wear 
his hat in presence of his prince? Penn asked for 
time to think this question over. 

'Why?' exclaimed the angry Admiral; 'in order 
to consult the Ranters?' 

'No, sir,' said the young man softly; 'I will not 
see them ; let me go into my room.' 

Penn slipped aside, and after some time, spent 
in prayer, he came back to his father with his final 
word — he could not lift his hat to mortal man. 

'Not even to the King and to the Duke of 
York?' 

'No, sir; not even to the King and to the Duke 
of York?' 

The indignant Admiral turned him out of doors. 



54 



CHAPTER VI. 
Hat-Homage ( 1()67-1668 ) . 

To live an easy life and wear the coronet of an 
English peer? To pass through shadows and to 
dwell with the despised of men? Such was the 
choice now offered to the young swordsman of 
Paris , the modish gentleman of the Navy Gardens 
and the volunteer of Carrickfergus. Was it craze 
of mind which led him to offend a generous father, 
to renounce a pleasant home, and sacrifice his 
prospects in the court, about some scruple as to 
taking off his hat? A man of sense might think 
so. if this lifting of the hat were all. But lifting 
and not lifting of the hat was very far from be- 
ing all. It was a sign and one of many signs. 

With us to raise the hat is easy ; we are used to 
it. Our hats are made for lifting, and we raise the 
hat in cases where our fathers would have bent 
the knee. Hat-homage is our social creed. But 
in the reign of Charles the Second it was new and 
strange. A hat is made to wear, not carry in 
your hand. Men wore their hats in house and 
church as well as in the street and park. Men sate 
at meals in felt, and listened at a play in felt. '1 
got a strange cold in my head.' wrote Pepys, 'by 
flinging my hat off at dinner.' Every one ate 
covered. Clarendon tells us that in his younger 
days he always stood uncovered in the presence of 
his elders, save at meals, when he and other lads 
put on their hats. A shopman stood behind the 
counter in his hat; a preacher mounted to the 
pulpit in his hat. The audience wore their hats, 
55 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and only doffed them at the name of God. But 
with the coming of Charles a hundred foreign fol- 
lies had come in. French words, French habits, 
and French fashions, were the rage. Such wits as 
Rochester and Sedley brought in French, and fools 
of fashion cried at every pause of conversation, 
'You have reason, sir,' 'In fine, sir,' and the like. 
Sir Martin Marrall in Dryden's comedy is a type 
of this new race of courtiers, just as Moody is a 
type of the Elizabethan men. 

Hat-lifting, therefore, was the sign of a depraved 
and foreign fashion, recently brought into Eng- 
land from abroad. All sober men put on their 
hats, while wits and foplings carried them in their 
hands. The homely citizen wore his beaver, and 
the lord-in-waiting wore a periwig. To wear the 
hat was English, and to take it off was French. 

Even Cromwell had been puzzled how to act to- 
wards those who wedded such a doctrine as non- 
resistance to that of the inner light. What was 
he to do with men who would not meet him foot 
to foot, yet claimed to be a law unto themselves? 
How could he manage men who told him they 
would not accept his rule, yet offered him their 
cheeks and necks to smite? A sword that cut a 
path through Naseby field was useless in the pres- 
ence of this unresisting force. He tempted them 
with smiles, with gifts, with places, but these simple 
souls would have no part in him and in his rule. 
' Now,' said he, ' I see there is a people risen whom 
1 cannot win.' These Friends were men of peace, 
if what they did was wrong, they took upon their 
backs the burden of that sin. Such sects as Level- 
lers and Anabaptists he could meet as sword en- 
counters sword ; but with the Quakers there was 
nothing he could strike. They courted stripes and 
chains. They bowed their heads to fine and sen- 
56 



HAT-HOMAGE. 

t€nce ; taking his decrees as so much penance laid 
on them in love. They would not fly before his 
troops, and if he wished to kill them they were 
ready for the cross. However fixed his purpose, 
they were not less fixed in theirs — to weary out 
and overcome his strength. 

The system of these Friends was one of State 
affairs as well as Church affairs ; announcing that 
all men are equal before the laws ; that all men 
have a right to express opinions; that all men 
have a right to worship God according to their 
conscience ; not because such and such things were 
done by ancient tribes ; not because it is well to 
have certain balances and checks ; but on account 
of the inward, independent, indestructible light in 
every human soul. Each man is a separate power, 
and therefore has a separate right. This system 
met with bold denial every claim of prince and 
pope to curb the individual will, and every claim 
of prelate and inquisitor to search the individual 
mind. It held that every man's own light — his 
conscience or his reason — is the safest guide. To 
doff the hat, to bend the knee, to call a man by 
such vain names as lord and prince, was sin 
against the Lord and Prince of heaven. For God. 
the Friends declared, had made men peers, and 
setting up these marks of separation was dividing 
men without a cause, and trifling with the noblest 
work of God. 

To a young man holding such a gospel what 
was a baron's coronet — what a seat in the House 
of Lords? 

Shut out from his home in the Navy Gardens at 
the age of twenty-three. Ensign Penn was not left 
to starve in the streets. Lady Penn sent him 
money from her private purse. His new friends 
made him welcome in their homes ; for this young 
57 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

soldier came amongst these pious people as a 
brand plucked out of a burning fire. This time of 
exile from the Navy Gardens was a trial to his faith. 
He loved his mother and his sister Peg. the merry 
matron and the romping girl ; and for the Admi- 
ral he entertained a high, though not unreason- 
ing, respect. On every side he had to count some 
loss. With his opinions he could not hold his 
Ensign's rank, he could not keep his Clerkship of 
the Cheque. These small things had to go the 
way of greater things. 

The set-off to his loss was not so obvious to a 
worldly eye and Admiral Penn could not be made 
to see that he had any set-off at all to count. In 
giving up his rank his ofiice, and his home as 
well as sacrificing the hope of greater things to 
come, the young man felt he was obeying the sum- 
mons to forsake his father and mother for a high- 
er good. He found no comfort in the romps and 
revels in the tavern dinners and the evening plays. 
The creed of Fox was to him a saving creed. Such 
men as Fox and Loe were notable for the purity 
of their lives. What they professed to be they 
were; not so the titled people whom he met in his 
father's haunts. At the theatre in Drury Lane, to 
which his mother and sister went so often he had 
seen virtue mocked , and truth abused and female 
modesty put to shame. The park, where his father 
loved to be seen, was thronged with harlots and 
bravoes ; with women who sold their smiles and 
men who were ready to sell their swords. He knew 
that the royal palace was a nest for every crawl- 
ing thing. Look where he would upon that socie- 
ty from which he was shut out, he saw little be- 
yond vanity, rottenness, and death. In the high- 
est place of all— that chamber in which, not long 
ago. Cromwell had poured out his soul in prayer, 
58 



HAT-HOMAGE. 

and Milton had pealed his organ-note — a herd of 
gamesters courtesans, and duellists, diced and 
drank the live-long night. 

A young man pure in heart, might well turn 
anchoret in such a world. 

The politics of Fox had also their attraction for 
this idealist of twenty-three. For four or five 
years he had been poring over Sydney's dreams. 
One Commonwealth had failed. He wished to see 
a new experiment in freedom ; an experiment con- 
ducted, not by orators and soldiers acting in a 
worldly spirit, and with personal ends in view ; but 
a religious and fraternal commonwealth, where 
every member would devote himself to God and 
man. Penn loved that great republican like a son, 
but he could never give his heart up wholly to the 
idea of a country governed in the pride of intel- 
lect and virtue. Fox supplied what Sydney want- 
ed—faith in things unseen and passionate belief in 
individual men. Penn found that he could feel and 
act with both these leaders ; looking up with 
Sydney to the free government of Pericles and 
Scipio, yet denying with Fox that past example 
is of higher use to man than inner light. 

After a few months of absence from the Navy 
Gardens, Penn was suffered to return, but still the 
Admiral held aloof from his rebellious son. He 
would not speak to him ; he would not sit at table 
wath him. Penn hung up his sword and coat of 
mail, and put into a trunk his lace and plume. He 
dressed in homely garments, and resigned his lu- 
crative Clerkship of the Cheque 



59 



CHAPTER YII. 

SWOKD AND PkX ( 1()()8 ) . 

Alone in his rooms at the Navj Gardens, he who 
had just laid down his sword, took up his pen. 
While the Admiral was fighting through a, court 
intrigue of Lord Arlington and Sir Robert How- 
ard, as the minions of Prince Rupert. Penn was 
engaged in struggling with the sins and sufferings 
of a host of men whom he regarded as agents of 
the Prince of Darkness. But his only weapon was. 
as yet, the pen. 

A startling call was made to princes, priests, 
and people, to examine for themselves the Quaker 
doctrine of the inner light, in a tract called 'Truth 
Exalted; in a short but sure testimony against 
all those religious faiths and worships that have 
been formed and followed in the darkness of apos- 
tacy,— and for that glorious Light which is risen 
and shines forth in the life and doctrine of the 
despised Quakers, is the alone good old way of life 
and salvation' — a boyish i)iece. signed. 'William 
Penn. whom divine love constrains in holy con- 
tempt to trample upon Egypt's glory, not fearing 
the King's wTath, having beheld the majesty of 
Him who is invisible.' This kind of protest was 
not relished by such courtiers and buffoons as Ar- 
lington ; the less so when they found how prompt 
the young man was to practice what he taught. 
In face of shrug and t<neer. Venn walked among 
the scoffers of the ^\a\\. his sword and feather laid 
aside, in simple garb, saluting those he met as 
thee and thou, and keeping on his hat in pres- 
60 



SWORD AND PEN. 

ence of the greatest lords. Such men of wit and 
rank as Rochester observed him with a pleasant 
smile, and bucks and bloods of lower standing 
were restrained from offering insult to the man of 
peace by what they knew of his dexterity in fence. 
In company with George Whitehead and Thomas 
Loe, he waited on the Duke of Buckingham, as 
one who had both power and wit to help him in 
his cause, and standing covered in his Grace's 
chamber, urged upon that flighty nobleman the 
policy of tolerating all opinion in the Church. 
The Duke sat still, while Penn denounced the 
stocks and pillories, to which good men were daily 
sentenced for their conscience' sakes. while he re- 
cited Saxon laws and Norman charters, and ap- 
pealed to jurists of a later time. His Grace not 
only thanked his guests for coming to his house, 
but told them he was of their mind in such things, 
and would help them when he could. Not much 
was to be got from the mercurial Duke, They 
went to Arlington. Secretary of State, but Ar- 
lington, who was angry with the Admiral, put 
these Quakers to the door. 

A few weeks after ' Truth Exalted" saw the light 
of day, the writer gave his second essay in polem- 
ics to the world. One Jonathan Clapham. Rec- 
tor of Wramplingham, in Norfolk, had abused the 
Quakers in 'A Guide to True Religion.' with gro- 
tesque severity. Penn answered Clapham in ' The 
Guide Mistaken.' an extremely fierce and personal 
piece of writing, such as the religious public loved 
to read. All wTiting was in that day highly 
spiced; the plays with an indecent wit. the ser- 
mons with ridiculous compliments, the controver- 
sies with personal spite. In following up the fash- 
ion of his time. Penn always called a fool a fool. 
His nights and days were therefore full of strife, 
61 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and in these early times, before his spirit had been 
tempered by the Tower and Newgate to a softer 
wisdom, he was rather Ensign Penn than Quaker 
Penn. 

At this time— summer time of 1668— there lived 
in Spital Fields a minister of good repute named 
Thomas Vincent, once a student of Christ Church, 
Oxford, afterwards a chaplain to Robert Sydney, 
Earl of Leicester, and pastor of St. Mary Magda- 
len, Milk Street. He had been ejected from his 
living at the Restoration, and had afterwards ob- 
tained a pulpit in Spital Yard. This Vincent was 
a sound scholar and an eloquent, though a coarse 
divine. Now two of Vincent's hearers, happening 
to stray from Spital Yard chapel to a Quaker 
meeting-house in the city, out of simple eager- 
ness to know what people like the Children of 
Light could say for themselves, were caught, as 
Penn himself had been caught by Thomas Loe. 
These followers of Vincent left his chapel in Spital 
Yard, on which he turned in wrath on the se- 
ducers of his people calling them blasphemers, 
hypocrites, and schismatics and denouncing them 
to his flock as worthy of the fiery pit. For Vin- 
cent, though a good and worthy man employed 
the controversial language of his time. 

These violent words inflamed the Friends, and 
two of their recognised chiefs, the aged George 
Whitehead and the youthful William Penn, re- 
paired to Spital Yard to ask from Thomas Vin- 
cent as their right, a time and place where in the 
presence of his congregation they might answer 
his attacks. At first the minister of Spital Y^ard 
refused, but on their suit being pressed more 
warnly he consented on condition that they left 
the choice of time and place to him. To this 
condition Whitehead and Penn agreed, when Vin- 
62 



SWORD AND PEN. 

cent named a certain evening as the time, and his 
own pulpit as the place. Such controversies were 
a fashion of the age ; as popular as plays and bull- 
baits even when they turned on abstract articles 
of faith. 

When Penn and Whitehead came to Spital Yard . 
attended by a body of their friends, they -found 
the chapel densely packed by Vincent's people. 
Not a man could enter save the speakers, and 
these speakers saw too plainly that their chance of 
a fair hearing was but small. Yet they passed in. 

George Whitehead, as the elder rose to state his 
views, but Vincent took exception to this course. 
The better way. he said, would be for him to put 
questions, and for the Quakers to reply, as then 
the Quakers would stand condemned out of their 
own mouths. Penn could not see the justice of 
this line, but Vincent's people cried. 'Yea. yea let 
it be so 1 ' Alone in that vast crowd of men the 
Quakers were obliged to yield, and let the wrangle 
take such form as Vincent pleased. Then Vincent 
rose and asked the two 'blasphemers' whether 
they owned one Godhead, consisting in three dis- 
tinct and separate forms? Whitehead and Penn 
asserted that the dogma so delivered by Vincent 
was not found in Holy Writ. Vincent answered by 
a syllogism. Quoting St. John, he said :— 'There 
are three that bear record in Heaven the 
Father, the Word and the Holy Spirit, and these 
three are one.' These three, he argued. ' are either 
three manifestations, three operations, three sub- 
stances or three somethings else besides subsis- 
tences; but they are not three manifestations, 
three operations, three substances nor anything 
else besides three subsistences; hence, there are 
three separate substances, yet only one deity.' 
Whitehead rejected the term ' subsistences' as not 
63 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

of scriptural authority, and wished to hear from 
Vincent what he meant by it— in vain. Penn laid 
this point before the public in a pamphlet called 
'The Sandy Foundation Shaken;' an attempt in 
author-craft which brought him into conflict with 
men as swift to strike as Vincent, and with greater 
power to hurt than the excited folks in Spital Yard. 

'I found it so well writ,' says Pepys, in speaking 
of this pamphlet, ' as I think it too good for him 
ever to have writ it; and it is a serious sort of 
book, not fit for everybody to read.' Much wiser 
men than Pepys thought with him ; for in some 
good people's view, to hold that God is One, is to 
deny that Christ is also God. While Vincent railed 
against ' The Sandy Foundation' as a book deny- 
ing Christ, he also called upon the civil power to 
put it down by force. This cry exactly suited 
Arlington, then hot in quarrel with his colleague 
at the Navy Office. Sir William Penn. As he had 
not been able to hurt the father, he seized too eag- 
erly on any chance of injuring him through his son. 

Like nearly all the pamphlets of that time. ' The 
Sandy Foundation Shaken' was printed without a 
license from the Bishop of London ; and the fact, 
however common, laid both printer and author 
open to proceedings by the crown. A recent act 
(14 Car. II. c. 33) , had made it unlawful for any 
private person to print a book without a license ; 
and Lord Arlington at once arrested John Derby, 
printer of 'The Sandy Foundation Shaken,' and 
committed him prisoner to the Gatehouse till he 
should disclose the author's name, submit himself 
to mercy, and confess his fault. 

The full title of Penn's pamphlet was ' The Sandy 
Foundations shaken; or those so generally be- 
lieved and applauded doctrines of One God sub- 
sisting in three distinct and separate persons, — the 
64 



SWORD AND PEN. 

impossibility of God's pardoning sinners without 
a plenary satisfaction— and the justification of im- 
pure persons by an imputative righteousness — re- 
futed from the authority of Scripture testimonies 
and right reason by W. P., j., a builder on that 
foundation which cannot be removed.' W. P. j. 
was known to stand for William Penn, junior, son 
of the Navy Commissioner Sir William Penn ; but 
Arlington refrained from troubling the young 
writer till that gentleman put on his Quaker hat, 
walked down to Piccadilly, asked to see his lord- 
ship, and declared himself to be the author of that 
tract. He meant, he said, no harm. In printing 
his ' Sandy Foundation Shaken' without a license 
he was only following where much older persons 
led. No writers of such pamphlets ever thought of 
troubling his grace of London, Bishop Henchman, 
for a formal leave to print their works. Of course 
a technical offence had been committed. If his 
Majesty was pleased to press the law against him, 
he would answer it as best he could. But Derby 
was an innocent partner in his fault, and there- 
fore Penn desired to take his printer's place. 

Lord Arlington was but too prompt to take him 
at his word. Not having power to commit under 
the Licensing Act. the proper course for Arlington 
was to have caused Penn to be carried before a 
justice of the peace. A magistrate could hear the 
charge, compare the evidence, and on confession 
send him to trial for a misdemeanour. Such a mag- 
istrate would have taken bail for his appearance 
at the sessions, and in case the bail was not suf- 
ficient might have lodged him in the Fleet. But 
Arlington, in his haste to wound the Admiral, 
called his officers, arrested Penn. and sent him off 
—unheard, uncharged, and uncommitted — to the 
Tower. 

5 65 



CHAPTER VIII. 
In the Towek (1668). 

Young Penn was carried through the City to the 
Tower on Wednesday afternoon the sixteenth day 
of December, 1668 ; through streets piled up with 
snow and in a frost the like of which few Lon- 
doners had felt before that year. The Thames was 
full of ice. Old men were frozen in the public 
squares. The Pool was almost blocked with drift, 
and all the rigours of an Arctic winter raged and 
howled about the swampy precincts of the Tower. 

Sir John Robinson, Lieutenant of the Tower, 
was much surprised and more alarmed to see this 
prisoner at the By-ward Gate. The oflBcer who 
brought him in had no authority for his detention 
there, nor any statement of the charge against 
him. Robinson was asked to take him in, and 
hold him safe, without a lawful warrant; asked, 
in fact, to keep him prisoner at his personal risk. 
It was an unsafe game for Robinson to play. 
Such acts of power as Penn's arrest were not un- 
frequent, and Sir John, a bold and ready fellow, 
had been placed in the Lieutenant's Lodgings so 
that points of law and right should not be raised. 
But Robinson had been some years in office; he 
was growing rich and timid ; and when counting 
up his spoils, he trembled lest the fate of Blount 
and Helwys might become his own. He felt that 
he had kept the keys too long ; he knew that vil- 
lains bolder than himself were bidding for his post. 
A pack of hounds were hanging on his steps, and 
if they caught him at a slip would fasten on his 
66 



IN THE TOWER. 

heel. The great men at St. James's would not 
heed his cries. No promise had been kept to Hel- 
wys; none was likely to be kept with him. He 
must protect himself. One step beyond the line, 
and he might find himself, like Blount, a prisoner 
in the dungeon he had ruled so harshly and so 
long. 

The nicer points of law were not within his pro- 
vince. He was not aware of Penn's offence; and 
therefore, not aware that his offence was matter 
of statute-law; that the mode of proceeding was 
defined by a recent act; that every form pre- 
scribed in this recent act was being violated by 
the Secretary of State. But if Sir John was blind 
to his prisoner's case, he was quick enough to see 
his own. As a King's oflScer he was bound to 
answer in the courts of law for every exercise of 
an illegal power. A judge would only hear from 
him one plea in bar— a lawful warrant from the 
King in council to restrain his prisoner. If the 
Admiral should seek relief in the court of King's 
Bench, Sir John, being called upon to produce his 
son, would not be suffered to reply that he was 
acting on a verbal message from the Secretary of 
State. 

The fierce old sailor at the Navy Gardens was a 
man to dread. Sir William was a favourite wdth 
the fleet, a comrade of the Duke of York. If war 
should come again he might be one of the most 
powerful men in England : if the King should die. 
he might have greater power to make and mar 
than twenty such comedians in high place as Ar- 
lington. A man like Admiral Penn would never 
pardon those who helped to heap this shame upon 
him in the person of his son and heir ; and if the 
furious sailor caught such persons in his grip he 
oould be trusted— as Sir John supposed — to show 
67 



LIFE OF William penn. 

them no more mercy than he had showed to Don 
Juan de Urbina, when he seized that royal secre- 
tary, stript him of his clothes, and flung him, 
naked and astonished, down into the hold. Sir 
John sent off a messenger to beg that Arlington 
would give him at once a legal order to receive 
his prisoner. 

Arlington had no more right to sign such order 
than Sir John himself. All warrants of commit- 
ment to the Tower were signed by the King's 
Council ; understood as being the King in council ; 
and unless a prisoner were concerned in some 
offence against his Majesty's crown and life it was 
unusual to commit him to the Tower. Again, the 
fault of Penn was misdemeanour, not high trea- 
son, and the mode of dealing with that form of 
misdemeanour was prescribed by law. On looking 
at his hasty work, the Secretary saw that he had 
gone too far, unless he could convert the charge 
confessed by Penn into some graver matter than 
the publication of a pious and unlicensed book. 
He therefore called his coach, and braving the 
frosty air. drove down in person to the Tower. 

Neither Lord Arlington nor Sir John Robinson 
was yet aware how much officials had to gain 
from the Quaker doctrine of non-resistance. Other 
sects had learned to say by rote, ' Whosoever shall 
smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the 
left also.' Many persons said, 'Bless them that 
curse you. do good to them that hate you.' But 
the young Quaker took these gracious rules to 
heart, and strove to wear down malice by his pa- 
tient and forgiving mood. No gleam of the white 
passion that consumed the Admiral was likely to 
be seen in his converted son. 

Arlington sent for Penn to the Lieutenant's 
house, and putting on a big black look, demanded 
68 



TX THE TOWER. 

what the paper was about which Peiiu had 
dropped that morning- in Lord Arlington's room. 
A paper I Penn replied that he had dropped no 
paper in the Secretary's room. 

* Come come ' iirg-ed the great man, looking big- 
ger and blacker ; ' a paper had been picked up ; it 
lay on the floor where he had stood ; a paper full 
of rant and treason against his Majesty. The cul- 
prit would do well to own his crime and say who 
his confederates were. King Charles, their gra- 
cious sovereign, could be mild with young and 
penitent offenders ; but with old and hardened sin- 
ners he was justly stern.' 

Penn answered that he had no paper, no con- 
federates, no designs. He had not dropped a pa- 
per in Lord Arlington's room, and he had noth- 
ing that concerned his Majesty to confess. The 
book which he had written was directed against 
Vincent's argument, not against his Majesty's 
throne and life. He avowed the writing of that 
book, and told the Secretary he was ready to 
answer for it in the courts of law. 

Though bafl[led in his aim Lord Arlington af- 
fected to be pleased with Penn's disclaimer of the 
paper; and on leaving Penn at the Lieutenant's 
lodgings, he assured him he would go and see the 
King at once, when he would make the best of 
his case with Charles, and held out hopes that in 
a few hours Penn would be free to join his family 
at the Navy Gardens. 

Driving back to Whitehall Palace Arlington 
sought an interview with Charles. Harry Bennet, 
first and only Baron Arlington was a man after 
the King's own heart— a mimic and buffoon, who 
heightened the effect of every wink and parody in 
private, by the affectation of a grave and sombre 
carriage in tlie park and street. The man had 
69 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

lived in Spain and caught the manner of a gran- 
dee of that formal and punctilious country ; but in 
C'harles's cabinet among the odalisques and span- 
iels he could throw his mask aside and strut and 
bray, and whine and cackle, till the painted W' om- 
en and their royal patron shouted with delight. 
Young Penn— so grave of face, so plain of speech 
—was just the subject for a low comedian to dis- 
play in such a place —a boy who told the truth, 
who thee-ed and thou-ed. who wore his hat. who 
quoted Saxon laws, and wanted to be put in jail. 
King Charles at all times ready to protect the 
favourites who amused his idle moments, took 
upon himself the charge of Penn's arrest as well as 
Derby's. But on what pretence* could Penn's com- 
mitment to the Tower be justified ? When all was 
said, the offence of printing an unlicensed pamph- 
let was a misdemeanour only, and the manner 
of proceeding with offenders was prescribed by 
law. The copies must be seized as evidence against 
the printer and his employer. The printer and his 
employer must be taken to a justice of the peace, 
who. having heard the charge, and seen the proofs, 
could send the case for trial in the public courts. 
Not one of these legal forms had been observed 
with Penn. Charles, lolling in his cabinet, was 
puzzled how to act until a lucky thought oc- 
curred to him. Vincent was known to have called 
'The Sandy Foundation Shaken' a blasphemous 
pamphlet; meaning that Penn's denial of the 
'three subsistences' was blasphemy against the 
Son and Holy Spirit. Charles and Arlington 
caught the word. By virtue of his royal oflSce. 
Charles was a defender of the faith, and if a book 
were blasphemous the writer of it might be held 
his prisoner not as chief of the State but as 
head of the Church. Yes ; here was light for them 
70 



IN THE TOWER. 

—so far. A young man, who was talked about as 
having- 'turned ranter' or some such 'dreadful 
thing ' might be restrained for blasphemy with- 
out exciting great remark. But there was still 
for Arlington the slip in point of form. No Sec- 
retary of State had power to send a prisoner to 
the Tower ; the lawful right was in the Council ; 
in the King supported and advised by men ap- 
pointed to their office and responsible to the law. 
Unless His Majesty would help him here, poor 
Arlington was but too well aware how much he 
lay exposed to future suits and fines. His Ma- 
jesty would help him. Sending for the Council 
Register, Charles held a mock meeting of the 
Council— he and Arlington— and put the following 
entry on the book, as though the act had been 
done in regular course : — 

At the Court at Whitehall, the 16th of Decem- 
ber, 1668. 

Present : the King's Most Excellent Majesty, &c. 

The Right Hon. the Lord Arlington, His Ma- 
jesty's principal Secretary of State, having this 
day represented to His Majesty in Council that 
William Penn author of the blasphemous book 
lately printed, intituled, 'The Sandy Foundation 
Shaken,' etc. had rendered himself unto His Lord- 
ship, and that thereupon, in order to His Ma- 
jesty's service he caused him to be committed to 
the Tower of London, and likewise that he had 
caused John Derby, who printed the said book, 
to be sent prisoner to the Gate House ; which His 
Majesty, well approving of. did order that the 
said Lord Arlington be and he is hereby author- 
ized and desired to give directions for the contin- 
uing the said William Penn and John Derby closo 
71 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

prisoners in the respective places aforesaid until 
further order. 

This fraudulent entry in the Council book is to 
be noted for two singular facts, besides the fraud. 
The ' Sandy Foundation Shaken' is described in it 
as a ' blasphemous book ;' not as a book alleged 
to be blasphemous by an opponent; but as a 
book which the King and lords are satisfied is 
blasphemous. It is not likely that either Charles 
or Arlington had read the book ; for it was hardly 
out of press and was a grave and pious work. 
Lord Arlington had not been bound to read it in 
his office, for the seizure had been caused by want 
of license on the title, not by matter of offence 
supposed to lie in the book itself. But proof was 
nothing to a man like Charles, who made himself 
accuser where he ought to have been the final 
judge. His next point was to make the imprison- 
ment close. A close prisoner in the Tower was 
in a harder case than ordinary prisoners. He was 
locked up in his cell with a keeper. If a servant 
waited on him, that servant was kept a prisoner 
too. He was but scantily supplied with fire. At 
fixed and early hours, his lights were all put out. 
He could not see a friend except by special li- 
cense from the Council. He was not allowed to 
send for either doctor, parson, or attorney. He 
was not permitted to write a letter, to receive a 
present, to discharge a debt. He was obliged to 
eat the prison fare. All these restraints, by which 
the blackest traitors were not always bound, were 
to be put on Penn in order to induce unthinking 
people to believe that he was guilty of some seri- 
ous crime. 

But this mock council and this fraudulent en- 
try, though they covered Ariington would not 



IN THE TOWER. 

cover Robinson. An act of commitment, to be 
legal, must be signed by several members of the 
Council on his Majesty's behalf. At any moment 
Robinson might be ordered by a judge to pro- 
duce his prisoner, p.nd he begged Lord Arlington 
to let him have a regular warrant, duly signed 
which he could plead in bar of any action brought 
against him. Then, a meeting of the Council— of 
some pliant members of the Council— was con- 
vened in haste, on Friday, when seven members 
met the P^^ing. and put their signatures to the 
following warrant : — 

At the Court at Whitehall, the 18th of Decem- 
ber. 1668. 

Present : The King's Most Excellent Majesty, 

Whereas William Penn hath by His Majesty's 
particular command, signified by the Lord Arling- 
ton, principal Secretary of State, been committed 
prisoner to your custody for composing and caus- 
ing to be printed a blasphemous treatise, in- 
tituled, 'The Sandy Foundation Shaken.' etc.. 
and the said Lord Arlington having this day in 
Council acquainted His Majesty therewith. His 
Majesty was pleased to approve well of what by 
the diligence of the said Lord Arlington had been 
done therein, and accordingly to order that the 
said William Penn should remain and continue 
prisoner in your custody. These are therefore in 
His Majesty's name to charge and require you 
to keep and detain close prisoner within that His 
Majesty's Tower of London the person of the said 
William Penn. until His Majesty's pleasure shall 
be further signified. Dated the 18th day of De- 
cember, 1668. 

73 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

A warrant signed by Ormonde Carbery. and 
Sandwich was enough for Robinson, who felt 
when he received their names that he could turn 
the key upon his prisoner and retire to sleep in 
peace. 



74 



CHAPTER IX. 
Blasphemy and Heresy (1669). 

Though Arlington was backed by Charles, he 
knew that he had gone too far. unless he could 
complete his task. He had induced his Majesty 
to let the thing go on by putting Penn's proceed- 
ings in a comic light and making Charles believe 
that ten or twelve days in a dark and wintry 
vault would bring that youngster to his knees. 
Charles knew how Admiral Penn himself had 
winced and fainted in the Tower. If Penn's young 
spirit could be broken Arlington was safe; for if 
the wTiter of 'The Sandy Foundation Shaken' were 
brought to own his fault, admit the charge of 
blasphemy, and beg Lord Arlington to intercede 
for him. the Admiral could not afterwards resent 
the injury of his commitment to the Tower. 

Arlington's first care was to make the world be- 
lieve that Penn was not a prisoner of the State ; 
that Bishop Henchman, whose authority was 
touched had been the mover; and that Penn 
would have to answer for his crime before the 
Consistorial court. Some persons were deceived 
by Arlington's reports; among these persons 
Penn himself. One day a servant from the Navy 
Gardens, who was suffered to attend him in his 
chamber, said the rumour in the city was that my 
Lord of London was exceedingly angry with him, 
and had answered some who spoke about the 
charge of blasphemy. ' Penn shall either recant or 
die a prisoner.' Penn was staggered for a mo- 
ment ; he was only twenty-four years old ; and Ar- 
75 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

lington had led him to expect release from day to 
day. Then turning to his servant, he replied. 
' Now all is well.' He knew the worst and rose to 
meet it like a man. 'I wish ' he added, 'they had 
told me so before, since the expecting of release 
put a stop to some business.' Penn was much 
deceived about the prelate. Henchman was not 
present when the Council signed his order of com- 
mitment nor was any other officer of the Church, 
save Charles, as born Defender of the Faith. This 
born Defender of the Faith was not much versed 
in sacred lore ; but if he had one serious purpose 
in his brain it was that men should not be trou- 
bled in his kingdom for affairs of faith. He stood 
in need of much indulgence and he tried to keep his 
creed a secret from the world. To rouse religious 
passion was alike against his humour and his in 
terest. Not a single case of blasphemy had been 
tried since he began to reign. But Arlington was 
in a strait, and Charles imagined that the easiest 
way to pull him through it was to frighten the 
young gentleman in the Tower; to pardon his 
offence without the scandal of a public trial ; and. 
on due submission to restore him cured of his 
ridiculous whimsies, to his father's house. But 
Charles, like Arlington, was a})t to count his vic- 
tories before his adversary's sword was down. 

'Thou mayst tell my father,' said the prisoner 
to his servant, ' my prison shall be my grave be- 
fore I will budge one jot. I owe my conscience to 
no mortal man. 1 have no fear. God will make 
amends for all.' The Admiral was lying in a sick 
bed, unable to attend the meetings of his board, 
and only strong enough at intervals to crawl 
across the bridge and see his son. Court feuds 
were running high ; the Admiral's friends were 
losing ground ; and Coventry, his closest comrade, 
76 



BLASPHEMY AM) HERESY. 

was unlikely to retain his seat. The state of par- 
ties vexed him. At the Navy Board his rivals 
were intriguing- to get rid of him. He dared not 
hope for new commands at sea. His health was 
breaking fast. On every side he saw the twilight 
closing round his house. 

To lend some show of fairness to his seizure of 
Penn's 'Sandy Foundation Shaken.' Arlington, 
who heard that Vincent was engaged in printing a 
reply to that pamphlet called ' The Foundation of 
God Standeth Sure ' despatched an officer to the 
house of Thomas Johnson, printer, with instruc- 
tions to seize the copies of Vincent's book ; Vin- 
cent had no more thought of asking for a license 
than Penn had done, and the Secretary had a 
legal right to seize his papers, carry him to a jus- 
tice of the peace, and have him tried for breach of 
law. Tom Widdower. the King's messenger, who 
went to search Johnson's premises, found the 
types and papers gone ; they had been carried off 
the previous night ; but Widdower got a clue to 
their hiding-place in the cellars of William Bur- 
den one of Johnson's friends. A fortnight after 
Charles had been pleased to order Penn to be kept 
a prisoner in the Tower, and Derby in the Gate- 
house, Widdower was authorized to take the bod- 
ies of Johnson and Burden into his custody, to 
seize all copies he could find of Vincent's book, 
and bring the two prisoners, with their types, be- 
fore one of his Majesty's principal Secretaries of 
State. No search was made for Mncent. After 
nine days had been spent by Burden and Johnson 
in the messenger's house the men were liberated 
on petition to the King and not a second word 
was said about this printing of unlicensed books. 
The book itself was out. When Vincent heard of 
Johnson's types being seized he found a second 
77 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

printer, got his work set up, and in a week ' The 
Foundation of God' was scattered far and wide in 
the religious world. This pamphlet bore no license 
from the Bishop of London, and it had no print- 
er's name affixed. It was a product of the secret 
press ; yet no proceedings were commenced by 
Arlington, and Vincent paid no visit to his Majes- 
ty's Secretary of State. 

Days, weeks, passed by. The winter wore away, 
and Penn sat waiting in his dungeon for the royal 
mood to change. From time to time the King 
sent down some person skilled in fence to search 
his mind. These persons found him very gentle in 
his ways, but not inclined to yield in what was 
now the central point. They told the King that 
Penn had given them 'reasonable, good satisfac- 
tion ;' but his Majesty wanted more than Penn could 
give. The weeks of his imprisonment grew months. 
In March, his friend Sir William Coventry, was 
brought into the Tower a prisoner, on a charge 
of challenging the Duke of Buckingham to fight. 
Coventry, a Privy Councillor, was lodged in Ra- 
leigh's old prison the Brick tower, on the north- 
ern wall, where he remained for sixteen days and 
then, completely broken in his spirit, made a full 
submission, and retired a ruined man. From time 
to time adroit and learned persons came to 
visit Penn ; but these divines could say no more 
than that they found him in a 'reasonable' state of 
mind. The Admiral, who heard of these reports, 
resolved to make an effort for his son's relief. 
For ten weeks he had been unable to attend the 
Navy Board; but on the thirtieth day of March, 
he went in person to Whitehall, where he presented 
a petition to the King and took the seat which 
he had held so long. In his petition he expressed 
his sorrow for those failings of his son which had 
78 



BLASPHEMY AND HERESY. 

incurred his Majestj'a displeasure; but while he 
admitted that the youth had fallen away from 
his Church, and so provoked the King to anger, 
he expressed a confident hope that God would 
bring him back to true religion, and a full con- 
viction that he would do nothing to the prejudice 
of his Majesty's crown and government. He re- 
ferred to the 'reasonable satisfaction' which his 
son had given and begged his Majesty to set him 
free. 

The Admiral's appearance at the Xavy Board 
stirred up the faction of his enemies, and when the 
Council met next day to read his petition a ma- 
jority of the councillors were dead against his 
prayer. Instead of setting Penn at liberty, the 
King in Council gave an order for Humphrey 
Henchman, Bishop of London, to proceed against 
him in the Consist orial Court, for an offence not 
hitherto asserted — namely, 'blasphemous here- 
sies' — not alleged 'blasphemy' and alleged 'here- 
sies,' but for these heinous crimes, now ascertained 
by Charles himself. 'His Majesty.' so ran the 
royal order, 'having taken into consideration 
that the book printed and published by the said 
William Penn, entitled, The Sandy Foundation 
Shaken, containeth in it several dangerous and 
blasphemous heresies to the scandal of the Chris- 
tian religion, did this day order and require the 
Right Reverend Father in God, The Lord Bishop 
of London, to take cognizance and to proceed to 
the examination and judging of the said heretical 
opinions, according to such rules and forms as be- 
long to the Ecclesiastical Courts by the laws of 
this kingdom and in such a manner as hath been 
formerly accustomed in like cases.' Henchman's 
oflBcers were to have free access to the Tower ; and 
Penn. accompanied by his keeper and a guard, 
79 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

was to be brought in person to defend himself in 
that prelate's court. 

But nothing came of these commands. No doubt 
the Bishop sent his chaplains to the Tower, and 
had reports of Penn's condition laid before him ; 
but he took no step to bring the young offender 
to a public trial. Not a friend of Penn, and look- 
ing on him as a deserter, still the Bishop could 
not bring upon his church the odium of a perse- 
cution which she had not raised. For what was 
this ofience of blasphemy, alike according to the 
Common Law and constant ruling of the Consis- 
torial Courts? Denial of God caid of His provi- 
dence ; contempt of Jesus Christ ; scurrility and 
mockery of the words of Holy Writ. Could any 
one of these three forms of blasphemy be found 
in 'The Sandy Foundation Shaken*? No; not 
one; and Bishop Henchman knew it. Penn con- 
tended for the unity of God. A few extreme di- 
vines might hold that such an article of faith 
excludes the equal rank of Christ, and therefore is 
a practical denial of the Trinity. But Penn denied 
that such an inference was true. If he denounced, 
as unscriptural. the dogma of a separate exist- 
ence of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, he had not 
said they were not equally divine. A sober ruler 
of his see, the Bishop shrank from a discussion of 
such topics in a public court with such a man as 
Penn. Our creeds and articles use the words sub- 
stance essence, union, and personality, in refer- 
ence to the Trinity in a way to stir up subtle and 
vexatious doubts; and in a court like that of 
Charles the Second with men like Kochester and 
Buckingham for critics, with women like Barbara 
Palmer and Nell Gwyn for auditors, the scandal 
and excitement of a public trial would disturb his 
church. The young man would appear in sober 
80 



BLASPHEMY AND HERESY. 

ft-arb ; he would refuse to swear an oath ; he would 
decline to doift" his hat ; he would address the 
judge as 'thee' and 'thou/ instead of as ' my lord.' 
There would be laughter, jokes and sneers. The 
young- man might be trusted to defend his pamph- 
let with the highest spirit. He was so young in 
years, so pure in life, so quick in wit and elo- 
quence, so comely in his face and person, that the 
sympathies of serious people Vv^ould be with him. 
Henchman could not see his way. The King's 
command was not obeyed ; and I'enn was left a 
prisoner in the Tower, till Arlington could find 
some other means of finishing the work .he had 
begun in too much haste and hate. 

Arrested for one alleged offence, detained for 
another alleged offence, without a legal warrant, 
without a formal accusation, denied a trial, and 
confined in prison for the mere convenience of a 
Secretary of State Penn asked himself in what 
respect the proceeding of a Protestant Privy 
Council differed from those of a Catholic Holy 
OflBce? Charles was but another name for Philip; 
Arlington for Torquemada. If the balance leaned 
to either side, it leaned to that of Spain. The 
Catholic persecutors of his Uncle George were 
moved by nobler forces than the Protestant per- 
secutors who had lodged him in the Tower. At 
San Lucar, the members of the Holy Office who 
arrested George believed that what they did was 
right. But Charles and Arlington were but too 
well aware that what they did was ■^Tong. 

Allowed the use of pen and ink. Penn took to 
vvTiting. as the prisoner's solace, and compiled 
the first strong outline of a book which still en- 
joys pre-eminent favour in the serious world. ' No 
Cross, no Crown.' this prison book, was written 
in defence of Quaker habits, such as wearing the 
6 81 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

hat. dressing in sober tints, refusing titles of re- 
spect ; but thirteen years elapsed before the work 
assumed that larger shape in which it was to find 
acceptance from the whole body of professing 
Christian men. The title of his book was quaint. 
It stood, in the original draft, 'No Cross, no 
Crown; or several sober reasons against hat- 
honour, titular respects, You to a single person, 
with the apparel and recreations of the time ; be- 
ing inconsistent with scripture, reason, and the 
practice, as well of the best heathens as the holy 
men and women of all generations, and conse- 
quently fantastic, impertinent and sinful; with 
sixty-eight testimonies of the most famous persons 
of both former and latter ages for further con- 
firmation. In defence of the poor despised Quakers 
against the practice and objection of their adver- 
saries. By W. Penn. junior, an humble disciple and 
patient bearer of the cross of Jesus.' Four good 
texts were added to the page, of which the first 
expressed the prisoner's mood, — ' But Mordecai 
bowed not.' And William Penn bowed not, even 
though they kept him prisoner in the Tower. 



82 



CHAPTEPv X. 

Stillixgfleet (1GG9-1670). 

'No Cross, no Crown is a serious cross to me.' 
said Admiral Penn on reading this unworldly 
book. 'No Cross, no Crown' arose out of the 
writer's own position. He was suffering for opin- 
ion : he was suffering at the hands of men who 
professed to be the servants of God. He wished 
to present clearly to his own mind and to im- 
press upon others the great Christian doctrine 
that every man must bear the cross who hopes 
to wear the crown. To this end he reviewed the 
character of the age. He showed how corrupt 
was the laity, how proud and self-willed were the 
priests. The second part of ' No Cross, no Crown' 
consists of a collection of the sayings of heroes 
and sages of all nations in favour of the same 
doctrine— namely that to do well and to bear ill, 
is the only way to lasting happiness. 

In prison Penn was free. No gates could close 
upon his fancy; no restraints could chain his 
thoughts. The light of heaven was on his win- 
dow-panes ; the peace of God was in his soul. 
The strength with which he bore his trial brought 
him back his father's heart. Surprised to see how 
easily his son could brave privations which had 
broken his own hard spirit. Admiral Penn began 
to think there must be something genuine in his 
son's principles. Of course he hated all this stuff 
about equality and titles of honour, but he could 
not help being proud of having such a son. That 
son was more troubled about his father and moth- 
83 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

er. than his father and mother were about him- 
self. Dark clouds were lowering on their roof. 
The Admiral never went to the Navy Board after 
the thirtieth day of March. He was requested not 
to come again. In April he resigned his seat at 
the x\avy Board, and his official residence in the 
Navy Gardens. He retired with Lady Penn to 
Wanstead. I'eg was with her husband in York- 
shire; Dick was on his travels in foreign countries. 
Admiral Penn was well-nigh sick to death and in 
his loneliness he begged the Duke of York to in- 
terfere once more for his misguided son. 

No length of weary days and nights induced the 
prisoner to unsay one word that he had said. To 
Arlington he wTote a manly letter of appeal 
against the treatment he was suffering at the 
Secretary's hands. Protesting that in a proper 
state of civil society men are not to be pursued 
and punished for opinions, he asserted with a 
touch of humour, that the Secretary might be sat- 
isfied with denying his opponent any share of 
heaven, and leaving him his little corner of the 
earth. That men should not be free to eat drink, 
sleep, walk, trade and think, because they differ 
as to things which belong to a future life he said, 
was dangerous and absurd. He held that men's 
opinions must be reached by reason not by force. 
In his own case those who persecuted him had 
discovered their mistake and dared not bring him 
to an open trial. He invoked his English right 
to know the charge preferred against him and 
be called to his defence. 'I make no apology,' he 
added, 'for my letter as a trouble (the usual 
style of supplicants), because 1 think the honour 
that will accru . to thee by being just and releas- 
ing the oppressed, exceeds the advantage that 
can succeed to me.' 

84 



STILLINGFLEET. 

All hope of seeing the prisoner yield was pass- 
ing out of Arlington's mind, as well as out of that 
of Charles. * They are mistaken in me' said the 
l)risoner; 'I can weary out their malice. Neither 
great things nor good things ever were attained 
without loss and hardship. He that would reap 
and not labour, must faint in the wind.' 

The King was growing tired of a business which 
he had commenced in idle mood ; and when the 
Duke of York renewed his suit, Charles called his 
chaplain, Edward Stillingfleet into his cabinet and 
begged him to go down into the Tower and bring 
the young man there a prisoner to his senses, so 
that he might pardon him and set him free. 

Canon Stillingfleet. though he was only thirty- 
four years old, was thought to be the ablest con- 
troversial speaker in the Church. On all sides he 
was counted as a prodigy of nature. At the age 
of eighteen years he had been a fellow of his col- 
lege. At the age of twenty-four he had i)ublished 
his Irenicum ; and at the age of twenty-seven his 
Origines Sacrae. Dons at Cambridge and council- 
lors in London vied with each other in promot- 
ing this accomplished scholar. Lord Southamj)- 
ton at the instance of Archbishop Shelden and 
Bishop Henchman, gave him the rich living of 
St. Andrew's. Holborn. He was p'reacher at the 
Rolls and lecturer at the Temi)le ; he was canon 
residentiary of St. Paul's; and was the most pop- 
ular preacher at Whitehall. ' 1 carried my wife and 
her woman,' writes Pepys, 'to Whitehall Chapel 
and heard the famous young Stillingfleet who is 
newly admitted one of the King's chaplains and 
was presented, they say, to my Lord Treasurer 
for St. Andrew's, Holborn ^here he is now nun- 
ister, with these words: "That the Bishops of 
Canterbury. London, and another, believed he is 
85 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

the ablest joung man to preach the Gospel of any 
since the apostles/' ' Henchman had employed 
his pen in controversy with the Jesuits. At the 
age of thirty-four he was already hailed as Stil- 
lingfleet the Great. 

This eminent divine, so well prepared for argu- 
ment with men like Penn, repaired to his apart- 
ments in the Tower. Of course the prisoner was 
no match for him in learning but his gentleness 
and fortitude impressed the Canon's heart. With 
nothing but an open Bible Penn contested every 
inch of ground with one who had a perfect li- 
brary of the Fathers and the Councils in his mem- 
ory. He wanted Penn to yield so far that Charles 
could set him free as an act of royal grace. Penn 
wanted to confront his enemies in a court of jus- 
tice. ' Tell the King." he said to Stillingfleet, ' that 
the Tower is the worst argument in the world.' 
His visitor would not press that point ; he was 
too kind a man to take the Secretary's view. The 
Canon spoke of the King's favour to his family, 
of the Admiral's position in the service, of the 
prospects of advancement he was casting to the 
\Ninds. Penn heard him plead in silence, for he 
held him. as all good and intellectual people held 
him in the highest honour; but the words he ut- 
tered in the Tower were empty sounds. It was a 
case of conscience not of policy, and Penn was 
only one of many, who had been arrested for 
opinion's sake. His private ease was nothing, 
while so great a principle was at stake. 

Penn could not own a fault where he was not 
in fault, and by his weakness put his persecutor 
in the right. 'Whoever is in the wrong' urged 
Penn. 'those who use force in religion can never 
be in the right.' The Canon carried these words 
to his royal master. 

8G 



STILLINGFLEET. 

Not once, but many times the great divine went 
down to the Tower to hold discourne with Penn. 
On questions of theology the prisoner heard his 
visitor with zest. Stillingfleet brought dovMi some 
of his recent writings which he left for Fenn to 
read; and Penn. being made aware that other 
persons than Thomas Vincent were assailing him 
as one who had denied the divinity of Christ, 
composed a pamphlet in reply entitled, " Innocency 
with her open face, presented by way of apology 
for the book entitled The Sandy Foundation 
Shaken ' which he sent into the world at once. 
'That which I am credibly informed to be the 
greatest reason for my imprisonment.' he wrote, 
' and that noise of blasphemy which has pierced so 
many ears of late, is my denying the divinity of 
Christ.' He utterly repudiates such 'denying:' 
and proceeds to give some proofs of the divinity 
of Christ. The tract owed much to Stillingfleet, 
not only in quotations but suggestions. Every 
page betrayed the writer's study of his eloquent 
and learned visitor's recent works, especially of 
his discourse on Christ. 

As nothing further could be got from Penn— no 
owning of his fault, no prayers to Arlington, no 
promise for the future— and as Charles ha.d now 
been teased for seven whole months about the 
matter, which the Admiral and the Duke of York 
would not allow him to forget, his Majesty was 
pleased to declare himself satisfied with Stilling- 
fleet's report and 'Innocency with her open face.' 
An order, under date of July 28. 16(39, was sent 
to Robinson, instructing the Lieutenant of the 
Tower to deliver up his prisoner to Sir William 
Penn. 

It was not in human nature that Lord Arling- 
ton should be pleased, and it was probably from 
87 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

him that a report was spread of Penn being dis- 
charged on hard conditions. 'Young Penn, who 
wrote the blasphemous book ' said one of the 
court gossips, 'is delivered to his father to be 
transported.' Admiral Penn was ill; so ill that 
he could rarely stir from Wanstead. Nothing had 
been done, as yet about the purchase of a house 
and lands. Lowther was looking through the 
Yorkshire wolds for an estate, and hoping to se- 
cure a country place near Maske; but Admiral 
Penn, who clung to his design of settling in county 
Cork, desired his son to go at once to Shangarry 
Castle, where the property required a master's 
eye. Sir William hoped that in the management 
of his estate the young man's worldly passions 
would revive ; and six weeks after his son's dis- 
charge from the Tower the Admiral sent him 
down to Bristol, on his way to county Cork. 

'If you are ordained to be another cross to me " 
said the Admiral, 'God's will be done; and I shall 
arm myself the best I can against it.' He was very 
sore at heart. 

Arrived in Cork, Penn found the prison of that 
city full of Quakers; men of English race and 
faith, whose main offences were as he conceived, 
that they were hard workers and cautious trad- 
ers. Jealousy had much to do with this repres- 
sion of the Light, 'which was at least as much 
from envy about trade as zeal for religion.' From 
an early day the Friends had learned to buy and 
sell, and prosper in the ways of trade. The hour 
of Penn's arrival saw him at the Jail, Next day 
he held a meeting in the prison-yard, where he 
exhorted his brethren to be steadfast in their 
faith, and firm in their resistance to an unjust 
exercise of power. Without going on to Shangarrr 
Castle, he set out for Dublin, where he called 



STILLINGFLEET. 

meeting of Friends, and having put the case in 
form, he carried a memorial of their grievances to 
his friend the Duke of Ormonde. Arran, Lane, 
and others who remembered him at Carrickfergus 
in his plume and corslet, helped him to procure a 
hearing. A commissioner was directed to report 
on the Quaker prisoners who had been commit- 
ted by local justices, and in the following sum- 
mer an order was signed by Ormonde for the free 
discharge of every one who was in prison for 
opinion's sake. 

Penn stayed at Shangarry Castle nearly ten 
months; until, in fact, his father's plans began to 
change. The Lowthers found a good estate, some 
twenty miles from Maske, which he was now dis- 
posed to purchase; and he told his son to try if 
he could sell the Irish lands. It not being easy to 
procure a customer for Shangarry Castle, the 
Admiral bade him ask if any of the tenants were 
disposed to buy their lots. These tenants were 
too poor. 'I \\ish you had well done all your 
business there,' the Admiral wrote to his son, 'for 
I find myself to decline. » Penn took the hint, and 
gathering up his papers started for his father's 
house, where he was quickly reconciled to his 
father's heart. 



89 



CHAPTER XI. 

A Fresh Arrest (1670). 

Penn was soon disturbed by new persecutions. 
Liberty of Conscience— with its consequence Free 
Worship — was the question of that day ; a ques- 
tion of much practical diflficulty even to those who 
could admit that it was right in principle. The 
Duke of York, presumptive heir to the throne, 
was an avowed Catholic. Charles was suspected 
of leaning towards the ritual followed by his wife, 
his brother, his brother's wife, and his own favour- 
ite mistress. Some of the courtiers were aposta- 
tising ; others were supposed to be only waiting a 
more favourable moment to desert their Church. 
If Popery threatened from above. Puritanism was 
no less terrible below. The country swarmed with 
the disbanded hosts of Cromwell— men as hostile 
to the establishment as^o the monarchy. Sects 
were daily multiplying in number. In the midst 
of all these causes of dismay, a power which Par- 
liament had given the Church for her defence 
against the non-conforming bodies was renewed. 
The Conventicle Act declared it seditious and un- 
lawful for more than five persons, exclusive of the 
family, to meet together for religious worship ac- 
cording to any other than the national rite ; and 
every person above the age of sixteen years at- 
tending any such meeting, was liable, for the first 
offence to be fined five pounds or imprisoned dur- 
ing three months; for the second offence, to be 
fined ten pounds, or imprisoned six months; for 
the third offence to be fined a hundred pounds or 
90 



A FRESH ARREST. 

transported beyond the seas for seven years ; and 
for every additional ofl'ence to a hundred pounds 
of fine. This Act was renewed in April 1670. 

Penn soon became a victim of this enactment. 
Taking no notice of attempts to interfere with 
their modes of worship, some of the Quakers went 
on Sunday, the 14th of August, to their meeting- 
house in Gracechurch Street. They found the 
house closed, the doors guarded by soldiers. 
Penn took off his hat and began to preach. The 
constables came forward and arrested him. At 
the same time but in another part of the crowd, 
they arrested Captain William Jilead an old sol- 
dier of the Commonwealth now a draper in the 
city. Penn demanded their authority for his ar- 
rest; the officers produced a warrant, signed by 
Sir Samuel Starling Lord Mayor. Penn and Mead 
were taken from the place of meeting to the City 
magistrates. When Penn refused to doff his hat, 
Sir Samuel threatened to send him to Bridewell 
and have him flogged, though he uvi^the son of a 
Commonwealth admiral 1 On being reminded that 
the law would not allow him he committed Penn 
and Mead to the Black Dog a sponging-houpe in 
Newgate Market, to await their trial at the Old 
Bailey. From this place of durance Penn wrote to 
his father, glorying in his sufferings for a great 
principle, but expre.ssing his deep regret at being 
dragged away from home at such a time. 

On Thursday. September 1st. 1670. the pris- 
oners. William Penn the Younger and Captain 
William Mead, were placed in the dock. Penn 
stood before his judges, less as a Quaker pleading 
for the rights of conscience than an Englishman 
contending for the ancient liberties of his race. 
That he had violated the Conventicle .Act he knew; 
that he meant to violate that Act he also knew. 
91 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Penn held that the new Act was equally hostile to 
the Bible and the Great Charter. This was the 
point at issue — Does an edict possess the virtue 
and force of law even when passed by Crown and 
Parliament, which abolishes any one of our funda- 
mental rights? A most important point; and 
very dear to England were the issues to be tried. 
Penn raised the constitutional question, 'If we 
now plead guilty to the facts alleged against us 
— as in common cases we should do — this Act will 
acquire additional force : if we deny our guilt, as 
we may do and throw the burden of proof on 
the court, we shall show to all the world the evil 
animus of our persecutors; we shall also be able 
to raise the question whether this new and oppres- 
sive law be in harmony with the Great Charter, 
and other fundamental laws.' 

Both Penn and Mea.d resolved to plead not 
guilty to the charge, and throw the burden of 
proof on the other side. They thought it well to 
hire no counsel, and conduct the case themselves ; 
the rather that they meant the trial to be taken 
as a civil inquisition, not as a simple form of 
ascertaining whether they were guilty of the fact 
or not. 

Sir Thomas Howell, Recorder of London, tried 
the case. Around him sat Sir Samuel Starling. 
Lord Mayor; Alderman Sir Thomas Bludworth. 
Alderman Sir William Peake, Alderman Sir Rich- 
ard Ford, and Alderman Sir Joseph Sheldon ; the 
two sheriffs, John Smith, and James Edwards. 
Sir John Robinson, Lieutenant of the Tower, was 
present as Alderman of Dowgate ; also Sir Richard 
Brown the Lord Mayor of the Restoration year. 
In all ten justices occupied the bench. When the 
clerk of the court bade the crier call the jury, 
twelve citizens of London answered to their names : 
92 



A FRESH ARREST. 

Thomas Vere, Edward Bushel, John Hammond, 
Charles Milson, Gregory Walklet, John Brightman, 
William Plumstead. Henry Henley. Thomas Dam- 
ask. Henry Michel William Lever, and John Baily. 
These good men and true were sworn to try the 
prisoners at the bar and find according to the evi- 
dence adduced. The indictment, charging the two 
l)risoners with holding a tumultuous assembly, 
ran :— 

'That William Penn, gentleman, and William 
Mead, late of London, linen-draper, with divers 
other persons to the jury unknown to the number 
(,f three hundred, the 15th day of August, in the 
twenty-second year of the King, about eleven of 
the clock in the forenoon of the same day, with 
force and arms, &c.. in the parish of St. Bennet, 
Gracechurch. in Bridge Ward. London, in the 
street called Gracechurch Street, unlawfully and 
tumultuously did assemble and congregate them- 
selves together to the disturbance of the peace 
of the said lord the King : And the aforesaid 
William Penn and William Mead, together with 
other persons to the jury aforesaid unknown, then 
and there assembled and congregated together; 
the aforesaid William Penn. by agreement between 
him and William Mead, before made and by abet- 
ment of the aforesaid William Mead, then and 
there in the open street, did take upon himself to 
preach and speak, and then and there did preach 
and speak unto the aforesaid William Mead and 
other persons there in the street aforesaid, being 
assembled and congregated together, by reason 
whereof of a great concourse and tumult of people 
in the street aforesaid, then and there, a long 
time did remain and continue in contempt of the 
said lord the King and his law ; to the great dis- 
turbance of his peace, to the great terror and 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENX. 

disturbance of many of his liege people and sub- 
jects, to the ill-example of all others in the like 
case offenders, and against the peace of the said 
lord the King, his crown and dignity.' 

Such was the form and matter of a charge which 
was to be a memorable fact in the development of 
our civic liberties. No other verdict than acquittal 
could have been expected by a man with eyes to 
see and sense to understand. The very date as- 
signed to the offence was wrong, for Penn was 
taken on Sunday, August 14. and the indictment 
charged him with addressing a tumultuous and 
disorderly assembly in Gracechurch Street, on 
Monday, August 15, when he was living at the 
Black Dog. Penn and Mead were indicted for 
'conspiring together by agreement, before made 
between them,' They had never met, never spoken, 
never written to each other; they were perfect 
strangers till they found themselves in custody on 
a common charge. They were accused of being 
armed. Both Penn and Mead had long ago laid 
down their swords; and both were men of peace, 
in that extreme degree that they would not have 
raised a weapon even in self-defence. 

'What say you, William Penn and William Mead, 
are you guilty as you stand indicted, in manner 
and form as aforesaid, or not guilty?' 

Penn: 'It is impossible that we should be able 
to remember the indictment verbatim, and there- 
fore we desire a copy of it as is customary on the 
like occasions.' 

Howell: 'You must first plead to the indict- 
ment before you can have a cojiy of it.' 

Penn: 'I am unacquainted with the formality 
of the law, and before I shall answer, 1 request 
two things of the court: — first that no advan- 
tage be taken against me, nor I be deprived of 
94 



A FRESH ARREST. 

any benefit I might otherwise have received ; sec- 
ondly, that you will promise me a fair hearing and 
liberty of making my defence.' 

Court: 'No advantage shall be taken against 
you. You shall have liberty ; you shall be heard.' 

Feiin : * Then I plead not guilty in manner and 
form.' 

Like questions being put to Captain Mead, and 
the same assurances being given to him, he also 
pleaded not guilty in manner and form ; on which 
the court adjourned for dinner until three o'clock. 

Assembling after dinner, the court commanded 
Penn and Mead to be placed at the bar. They 
took their places ; but the judges changed their 
minds ; and Howell the Recorder, called the ordi- 
nary felons on his list. Penn, Mead, and the twelve 
jurymen were detained till eight o'clock at night 
when they were told the court would take their 
case on Saturday. 



95 



CHAPTEE XII. 
Old Bailey (1670). 

On Saturday, September 3, the court assembled 
for the case of Captain Mead and William Penn. 

The prisoners were coming into court with their 
hats on; a too zealous officer knocked them off; 
on which Sir Samuel Starling bellowed from the 
bench. ' Sirrah 1 Who bade you put off their hats? 
Put them on again.' As neither Mead nor Penn 
resisted, the officer picked their hats from the floor 
and set them on the prisoners' heads. When they 
had thus been covered by command of the court 
Recorder Howell asked them if they knew where 
they were, to which Penn answered that they 
knew. 

Howell: 'Do you know it is the King's court?' 

Penn : ' I know it to be a court, and I suppose 
it to be the King's court.' 

Howell: 'Do you know there is respect due to 
the court?' 

Penn : ' Yes.' 

Howell: 'Why do you not pay it then?' 

Penn: 'I do so.' 

Howell: 'WTiy do you not pull off your hat 
then?' 

Penn: 'Because I do not believe that to be any 
respect.' 

Howell: 'Well, the court sets forty marks a- 
piece on your heads as a fine for your contempt 
of court.' 

Penn: 'I desire it may be observed that we 
came into court with our hats off— that is, taken 
96 



OLD BAILEY. 

off— and if they have been put on since, it was by- 
order of the Bench ; and therefore not we. but the 
Bench should be fined.' 

The jury being sworn, Sir John Robinson, sus- 
pecting that Edward Bushel, one of the jurors, 
known to be a religious man objected to take an 
oath, pretended not to have seen him kiss the 
book, and desired him to be sworn again. Bushel 
was sworn a second time. Lieutenant James 
Cook was called. 

Cook: 'I was sent for from the Exchange to 
go and disperse a meeting in Gracechurch Street, 
where I saw ISlr. Penn speaking to the people, 
but I could not hear what was said on account of 
the noise. I endeavoured to make way to take 
him, but I could not get near him for the crowd of 
people; upon which Captain Mead came to me 
about the kennel of the street and desired me to 
to let him go on. for when he had done he would 
bring Mr. Penn to me.' 

Court: 'What number do you think there might 
be there?' 

Cook: 'About three or four hundred people.' 

Richard Read, a constable, was called. 

Howell: ^What do you know concerning the 
prisoners at the bar?' 

Read: 'My lord I went to Gracechurch Street, 
where I found a great crowd of people, and 1 
heard Mr. Penn preach to them, and I saw Cap- 
tain Mead speaking to Lieutenant Cook, but what 
he said 1 could not tell.' 

Mend: '\Yhat did William Penn say?' 

Rend: 'There was such a great noise I could 
not tell what he said.' 

Mend : ' Observe this evidence ; he saith he heard 
him preach; and yet saith, he doth not know 
what he said. — Take notice (to the jury) he means 
T 97 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

now a clean contrary thing to what he swore be- 
fore the Mayor when we were committed. I appeal 
to the Mayor himself if this be not true,' 

Sir Samuel Starling would not answer yea or 
nay. 

Court : ' What number do you think there might 
be there?' 

Read: ' About four or five hundred.' 

Penn: '1 desire to know of the witness what 
day it was?' 

Read: 'The 14th day of August.' 

Pen7} : ' Did he speak to me, or let me know he 
was there? For I am very sure I never saw him.' 

The court would not allow this question to be 
put. 

Another witness was called : his name not given. 

Unknown Witness: 'My lord, I saw a great 
number of people, and Mr. Penn I suppose was 
speaking for I saw him make a motion with his 
hands and heard some noise but could not un- 
derstand what was said. But for Captain Mead, 
I did not see him there.' 

Howell: 'What say you, Mr. Mead,— were you 
there?' 

Mead: 'It is a maxim in your own law — Xewo 
tenetur accusare seipsuin — which if it be not true 
Latin, I am sure it is true English— No man is 
bound to accuse himself. And why dost thou offer 
to ensnare me with such a question?' 

Howell: 'Hold your tongue sir.' 

Penn: 'I desire we may come more close to the 
point, and that silence be commanded.' 

' Silence in the court ! ' said the crier. 

Penn : ' We confess ourselves so far from recant- 
ing or declining to vindicate the assembling of 
ourselves to preach to pray, or worship God that 
we declare to all the world we believe it to be our 
98 



OLD BAILF.Y. 

indispensable duty to meet incessantly on so good 
an account ; nor shall all the powers on earth be 
able to prevent us.' 

Brown : ' You are not here for worshipping God, 
but for breaking the laws.' 

Penn: 'I affirm 1 have broken no law; nor am 
I guilty of the indictment that is laid to my 
charge; and to the end that the Bench, the jury, 
myself and those who hear us may have a more 
direct understanding of this procedure, I desire 
you would let me know by what law it is you 
prosecute me and on what law you ground your 
indictment?' 

Howell: 'Upon the common law.' 

Penn: 'Where is that common law?' 

Howell: 'You must not think that I am able 
to sum up so many years and over so many ad- 
judged cases, which we call common law. to sat- 
isfy your curiosity.' 

Penn: 'This answer is very short of my ques- 
tion ; for if it be common it should not be so very 
hard to produce.' 

Howell: 'Sir, will you plead to your indict- 
ment?' 

Penn: 'Shall I plead to an indictment that has 
no foundation in law? If it contain that law you 
say I have broken, why should you decline to pro- 
duce that law since it will be impossible for the 
jury to determine, or agree to bring in their ver- 
dict, who have not the law produced by which 
they should measure the truth of the indictment? ' 

Howell (waxing warm) : 'You are a saucy fel- 
low. Speak to the indictment.' 

Penn : ' I say it is my place to speak to matter 
of law. I am arraigned a prisoner. My liberty, 
which is next to life itself is now concerned. You 
are many mouths and ears against me ; and it is 

L.fC. «" 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

hard if I must not make the best of my case. I 
say again, unless jou show me and the people 
the law you ground your indictment upon. I shall 
take it for granted your proceedings are merely 
arbitrary.' 

Howell: ' The question is whether you are guilty 
of this indictment.' 

Penn : ' The question is not whether I am guilty 
of this indictment, but whether this indictment be 
legal. It is too general and imperfect an answer 
to say it is common law unless we know both 
where and what it is : for where there is no law, 
there is no transgression ; and that law which is 
not in being, so far from being common law, is 
no law at all.' 

Howell: 'You are an impertinent fellow.. Will 
you teach the court what law is? It is lex iion 
script R. That which many have studied thirty 
or forty years to know, would you have me tell 
you in a moment?' 

Penn : ' Certainly if the common law be so hard 
to be understood, it is far from being very com- 
mon : but if the Lord Coke in his Institutes (vol. 
ii. p. 56) be of any weight, he tells us that — com- 
mon law is common right and common right is 
the Great Charter privileges, confirmed by 9 
Henry III. cap. 29 : by 25 Edward I. cap. 1 : 
and by 2 Edward III. cap. 8.' 

Howell: 'Sir, you are a very troublesome fel- 
low, and it is not for the honour of the court to 
suffer you to go on.' 

Penn : ' I have asked but one question , and you 
have not answered me — though the rights and 
privileges of every Englishman are concerned in it.' 

Howell: 'If I should suffer you to ask ques- 
tions till to-morrow morning, you would be never 
the wiser.' 

100 



OLD BAILEY. 

Penn: 'That would depend upon the answers.' 

Howell (writhing) : 'Sir, we must not stand to 
hear you talk all night.' 

Penn : ' I design no affront to the court, but to 
be heard in my just plea. And I must plainly tell 
you. that if you deny me Oyer of that law, which 
you suggest 1 have broken, you do at once deny 
me an acknowledged right, and evidence to the 
whole world your resolution to sacrifice the privi- 
leges of Englishmen to your sinister and arbi- 
trary designs.' 

Howell: 'Take him away 1 My Lord, if you do 
not take some course with this pestilent fellow to 
stop his mouth, we shall not be able to do any 
thing to-night.' 

Starling: 'Take him away, take him away I Put 
him into the bale-dock.' 

Penn: 'These are so many vain exclamations. 
Is this justice or true judgment? Must I be taken 
away because I plead for the fundamental laws of 
England? However (addressing the jury), this I 
leave upon your consciences, who are my sole 
judges, that if these ancient fundamental laws, 
which relate to liberty and property— and are not 
limited to particular persuasions in matters of re- 
ligion—must not be indispensably maintained— 
who can say he has a right to the coat upon 
his back? If not, our liberties are open to be 
invaded— our wives ravished — our children en- 
slaved — our families ruined— our estates led away 
in triumph. The Lord of heaven and earth be 
judge between us in this matter 1 ' 

Howell: 'Be silent there 1' 

Starling commanded the officers of the court to 

carry the prisoner to the bale-dock— a well-like 

place at the farthest end of the court, in which 

he could neither see nor be seen. Thither Penn 

101 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

was forced under a protest against their right to 
remove him before the jury retired. Mead then 
addressed himself to his peers. 

Mead: 'You men of the jury, — Here I stand to 
answer an indictment which is a bundle of lies ; for 
therein I am accused that I met vi et armis, il- 
licite et tuinultuosf^. Time was when I had free- 
dom to use a carnal weapon, and then I thought 
I feared no man; but now I fear the living God. 
I am a peaceable man; and therefore ask, like 
William Penn, an Oyer of the law on which our 
indictment is founded.' 

Howell: ' I have made answer to that already.' 

Turning from the bench to the jury, the old 
soldier told the twelve, that if the Recorder would 
not tell the court what constituted a riot and an 
unlawful assembly, he would quote for them the 
opinions of Lord Coke. A riot, said that great 
legal writer, was when three or more met together 
to beat a man, or enter his house by force or cut 
his grass, or trespass on his land. Howell took 
off his hat to the prisoner, and making a low bow, 
said, in a tone which he meant to be withering, 
'I thank you, sir, for teaching me what is law.' 

Mead : ' Thou mayst put on thy hat : I have no 
fee to give thee.' 

Brown : ' He talks at random : one while an 
Independent — now a Quaker — next a Papist.' 

Mead: 'Turpe est doctori cum culpa redarguit 
ipsum.' 

Starling: ' You deserve to have your tongue cut 
out.' 

Mead: 'Thou didst promise me I should have 
fair liberty to be heard. Am I not to have the 
privilege of all Englishmen?' 

Mead was also removed to the bale-dock; and 
the court proceeded to charge the jury. 
102 



OLD BAILEY. 

Howell: ' You. gentlemen of the jury, have heard 
what the indictment is ; it is for preaching- to th<» 
people, and drawing a tumultuous company after 
them ; and Mr. Fenn was speaking. If they should 
not be disturbed you see they will go on. Three 
or four witnesses have proved this— that Mr. Penn 
did preach there, that Mr. Mead did allow of it. 
After this, you have heard by substantial wit- 
nesses what is said against them. Now we are on 
matter of fact, which you are to keep and to 
observe, as what hath been fully sworn, at your 
peril.' 

Penn (from the bale-dock, at the top of his 
voice) : 'I appeal to the jury, who are my judges, 
and to this great assembly, whether the proceed- 
ings of the court are not most arbitrary and void 
of all law. in offering to give the jury their charge 
in the absence of the prisoners I I say it is direct- 
ly opposed and destructive to the right of every 
English prisoner, as declared by Coke in the 2d 
Institute. 29 on the chapter of Magna Charta.' 

Howell (with playful humour) : 'Why you are 
present; you do hear. Do you not?' 

Penn : ' No thanks to the court that command- 
ed me into the bale-dock. And you of the jury, 
take notice that I have not been heard ; neither 
can you legally depart the court before 1 have 
been fully heard, having at least ten or twelve 
material points to offer in order to invalidate 
their indictment.' 

Howell: ' Pull that fellow down ; pull him down. 
Take them to the Hole.' 

So Penn and Mead were taken out of the bale- 
dock and carried to the hole in Newgate — the nas- 
tiest place in the most loathsome gaol in Eng- 
land, a den which Penn describes as so noisome 
that the Lord Mayor would think it unfit for pigs 
103 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

to lie in. Howell commanded the jury to agree in 
their verdict according to the facts. They retired ; 
the court remained sitting ; the vast concourse of 
people keeping an eager eye on the door which led 
into the jury-room. An hour and a half had passed 
before the door opened, and eight of the twelve 
jurors walked into court. They could not agree, 
they said ; the other four stood out against the 
court. Howell commanded the uncomplying four 
to be brought into his presence ; they came. Bushel 
was one of them ; in fact, the leader of the four. 

Robinson : ' I know you. You have thrust your- 
self upon this jury.' 

Bushel: 'No, Sir John. There were threescore 
before me on the panel, and I would willingly have 
got off, but could not.' 

Robinson: 'I tell you, you deserve to be in- 
dicted more than any man that has been indicted 
this day.' 

Starling: 'Sirrah, you are an impertinent fel- 
low I I will put a mark on you.' 

Sent back to their room the twelve jurors were 
absent longer than before ; at length they came 
into court, when Penn and Mead being sent for, 
silence was commanded. 

Clerk: 'Are you agreed in your verdict?' 

Vere the Foreman: 'Yes.' 

Clerk: 'How say you? Is William Penn guilty 
of the matter whereof he stands indicted in man- 
ner and form, or not guilty?' 

Vere : ' Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street.' 

Court: 'Is that all?' 

Vere: 'That is all I have in commission.' 

Howell: 'You had as good say nothing?' 

Starling: 'Was it not an unlawful assembly? 
You mean he was speaking to a tumult of people 
there?' 

104 



OLD BAILEY. 

Vere explained that on those points the jurors 
were not agreed. The court began to converse 
with each juryman apart, and some of these jury- 
men expressed themselves in favour of the views 
taken by the bench : but Edward Bushel, John 
Hammond, and two or three others, declared that 
they could admit no such term into their verdict 
as 'unla^;^'ful assembly.' 

Howell: ' The law of England will not allow you 
to depart till you have given in your verdict.' 

Yere: *We have given in our verdict; we can 
give in no other.' 

Howell: ' Gentlemen, you have not given in your 
verdict; you had as good say nothing as what 
you have said. Therefore go and consider it once 
more.' 

The jurors asked for pen, ink, and paper, and 
the court adjourned for half an hour. WTien the 
jury returned they handed in a written verdict, 
—again finding William Penn guilty of speaking to 
an assembly met together in Gracechurch Street, 
—and acquitting William Mead. This act was 
signed by all the twelve. On hearing it read 
aloud. Sir Samuel Starling shouted at the whole 
jury. ' What, will you be led by such a silly fellow 
as Bushel— an impudent, canting knave I I war- 
rant you. you shall not come upon juries again 
in a hurry,' And then turning on Thomas Vere, 
the foreman, he exclaimed, 'You are a foreman in- 
deed I I thought you understood your place bet- 
ter.' Howell came directly to the point. 

Howell: ' Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed 
till you bring in a verdict which the court will 
accept. Y^ou shall be locked up, without meat, 
drink, fire, and tobacco. Y'ou shall not think thus 
to abuse the court. We will have a verdict by the 
help of God, or you shall starve for it.' 
105 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Penn: 'My jury, who are my judges, ought 
not to be thus menaced. Their verdict should be 
free — not forced.' 

Howell: 'Stop that fellow's mouth, put him out 
of court.' 

Starling (to the jury) : 'You have heard that 
he preached ; that he gathered a company of tu- 
multuous people ; and that they not only disobey 
the martial power, but the civil also.' 

Penn: 'That is a mistake. We did not make 
the tumult, but they that interrupted us. The 
jury cannot be so ignorant as to think we met 
there to disturb the peace, because it is well 
known that we are a peaceable people, never of- 
fering violence to any man, and were kept by 
force of arms out of our own house.' 

One of the jury pleaded illness, as a reason why 
he should not be locked up without fire, food, or 
water. 

Starling: 'You are strong as any of them. 
Hold your principles and— starve.' 

Howell: ' Gentlemen, you must be content with 
your hard fate; let your patience overcome it. 
The court is resolved to have a verdict.' 

The whole Jury: ' We are agreed ; we are agreed ; 
we are agreed.' 

'Let the constables be sworn,' said Howell, 'to 
keep them in a room apart, with neither meat nor 
drink, '^ith neither fire nor light.' The constables 
were sworn, and the unhappy jurors dragged away. 



106 



CHAPTER XIII. 
Trial of the Jury (1670). 

Next day was Sunday, but the court assem- 
bled at the Old Bailey as on other days. At seven 
o'clock the jurors' names were called, and each 
man answering to his name, the clerk inquired,— 

Clerk: 'Are you agreed upon your verdict?' 

Veve: 'Yes.' 

Clerk : ' What say you ? Look upon the prison- 
er at the bar. Is William Penn guilty of the mat- 
ter whereof he stands indicted, in manner and 
form as aforesaid, or not guilty?' 

Vere: 'William Penn is guilty of speaking in 
Gracechurch Street.' 

Starling: 'To an unlawful assembly?' 

Bushel: 'No. my lord. We give no other ver- 
dict than we gave last night.' 

Starling: 'You are a factious fellow; I'll take 
a course with you.' 

Bluchrortb : 'I knew Mr. Bushel would not 
yield.' 

Bushel: 'Sir Thomas, I have done according to 
my conscience.' 

Starling: 'That conscience of yours would cut 
my throat.' 

Bushel: 'No, my lord, it never shall.' 

Starling: 'But I will cut yours as soon as I 
can.' 

Howell (merry) : ' He has inspired the jury ; he 
has the spirit of divination; methinks he begins 
107 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

to affect me,— I will have a positive verdict, or 
else you shall starve.' 

Penn : ' I desire to ask the Recorder a question. 
Do you allow the verdict given of William Mead?* 

Howell: 'It cannot be a verdict, because you 
are indicted for conspiracy— and one being found 
Not guilty and not the other, it is no verdict.' 

Penn: 'If Not guilty be no verdict, then you 
make of the jury and of the Great Charter a mere 
nose of wax.' 

Mead: 'Howl Is Not guilty no verdict?' 

Howell: 'No, it is no verdict.' 

Penn : ' I affirm that the consent of a jury is a 
verdict in law ; and if William Mead be not guilty, 
it follows that I am clear, since you have in- 
dicted us for conspiracy, and I could not possibly 
conspire alone.' 

Howell found it convenient not to notice this 
way of viewing the case. A scene of great con- 
fusion followed, with threats on the part of the 
magistrates, met by unflinching firmness from the 
jurors. Again the twelve good men were sent to 
their room ; again they returned with the same 
verdict of 'Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch 
Street.' It was clear they could do no more ac- 
cording to the evidence laid before them. When 
Vere announced the result of their third examina- 
tion, the legal conductor of the trial roared :— 

Howell: 'What is this to the purpose? I say, 
I will have a verdict.' And then scowling fiercely 
at Bushel, cried, 'You are a factious fellow. I 
will set a mark on you; and whilst I have any 
thing to do with the city, I will have an eye upon 
you.' 

Starling (to the other jurors) : 'Have you no 
more wit than to be led by such a pitiful fellow? 
I will cut his nose.' 

108 



TRIAL OF THE JURY. 

Penn: *It is intolerable that my jury should 
be thus menaced. Is this according to the funda- 
mental laws? Are they not my proper judges by 
the Great Charter of England? What hope is 
there of ever having justice done when juries are 
threatened and their verdicts rejected? Has not 
the Lieutenant of the Tower made one of them out 
worse than a felon?' 

Howell: 'My lord, you must take a course with 
that fellow.' 

Starling: 'Stop his mouth. Gaoler, bring fetters, 
and stake him to the ground.' 

Penn : ' Do your will : I care not for your fet- 
ters.' 

Howell (suddenly enlightened) : ' Till now I nev- 
er understood the reason of the policy and pru- 
dence of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition 
among them ; and certainly it will never be well 
with us till something like the Inquisition be 
brought into England.' 

Starling told the jury they must retire until 
they could agree upon a verdict of guilty. They 
refused. They had consulted three several times ; 
they had agreed to a verdict and signed it ; they 
could give no other. 

Howell: 'Gentlemen, we shall not always be at 
this pass with you. You will find that next ses- 
sion of Parliament there will be a law made that 
such as will not conform shall not have the pro- 
tection of the law. Mr. Lee,' addressing a law- 
officer of the court, ' draw up another verdict that 
they may bring it in special.' 

Lee: 'I cannot tell how to do it.' 

Jury: 'We ought not to be returned, having all 
agreed and set our hands to the verdict.' 

Howell: 'Your verdict is nothing. You play 
upon the court. I say you shall go .and bring in 
109 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

another verdict or you shall starve; and I will 
have you carted about the city as in Edward the 
Third's time.' 

Vere (who had fasted thirty hours) : 'We have 
given in our verdict, in which we are all agreed; 
if we give in another, it will be by force, to save 
our lives.' 

Starling: 'Take them up to their room.' 

Officer: 'My lord, they will not go.' 

The Sheriff was told to use force. 

They were again locked up for the day and 
night; left without food, without fire, without 
water,— to endure the agony of another night of 
raging fever, brought on by thirst and want of 
rest. They spent the night in anxious talk. They 
could not sleep for pain. Their chamber was un- 
utterably foul ; for Howell had refused them every 
article of chamber furniture. Some wandered in 
their thoughts. Some said they must give way 
or die. But those who fought for freedom of con- 
science — for the rights of jurors — supported from 
within by a strong sense of martyrdom, held on. 
They were prepared to die ; but never to betray 
the cause of right. 

Next day the court sat again. It was Monday 
morning and the proceedings began soon after 
sunrise. Yet the room was crowded. As the jury 
came into court, the men were pale and dark, but 
firm and resolute. The forms were gone through 
in succession, while the agitated audience tried to 
read the faces of the jurors. 

Crier: 'Silence in the court on i)ain of imprison- 
ment 1 ' 

Clerk : ' Gentlemen, are you agreed in your ver- 
dict?' 

Jury: 'Yes.' 

Clerk: 'Who shall speak for you?' 
110 



OLD BAILEY. 

Jury: 'Our Foreman.' 

Clerk: 'Look upon the prisoners. What say 
you. is William Penn guilty of the matter whereof 
he stands indicted in manner and form, or not 
guilty?' 

Vere : ' You have our verdict in writing with our 
hands subscribed.' 

Clerk: 'I will read it — ' 

Howell: 'No. It is no verdict. The court will 
not accept it.' 

Vere: 'If you will not accept of it, I desire to 
have it back again.' 

Court: 'The paper was no verdict and no ad- 
vantage shall be taken of you for it.' 

( 'hwk : ' How say you : is William Penn guilty 
or not guilty?' 

Vere: ' Not guilty.' (Movement and emotion in 
the court.) 

Clerk : ' Then hearken to your verdict.' (Reads) 
' You say William Penn is not guilty, and you say 
William Mead is not guilty. Say you all so?' 

Jury: 'We do.' 

The court was not content ; each man, it said, 
must answer for himself. The names were called 
over one by one in the hope that some one more 
timid than the rest would side with the bench. 
In vain ; each juror answered to the call, and dis- 
tinctly and without qualification pronounced — 
'Not guilty.' 

Howell: 'I am sorry, gentlemen, you have fol- 
lowed your own judgments and opinions rather 
than the good advice which was given you. God 
keep my life out of your hands I But for this 
the court fines you forty marks a man and im- 
prisonment in Newgate till the fines be paid.' 

Penn : ' Being freed by the jury. I demand to 
be set at liberty.' 

ni 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Starling: 'No. You are in for your fines.' 

Penn: ' Fines 1 What fines?' 

Starling: 'For contempt of court.' 

Penn: 'I ask if it be according to the funda- 
mental laws of England that any Englishman 
should be fined except by the judgment of his 
peers? Since it expressly contradicts the 14th and 
29th chapters of the Great Charter of England, 
which says, No free man ought to be amerced 
except by the oath of good and lawful men of the 
vicinage.' 

Howell (with severe and simple logic) : 'Take 
him away ; take him away ; take him out of the 
court.' 

Penn: 'I can never urge the fundamental huvs 
of England, but you cry out, "Take him away, 
take him away I" But this is no wonder, since 
the Spanish Inquisition sits so near the Recorder's 
heart. God, who is just, will judge you for all 
these things.' 

The two prisoners and the twelve jurors alike 
refused to pay the fines — the first as a matter of 
conscience; the second, because, under the influ- 
ence of Bushel, they were induced to dispute the 
power of the court to inflict this fine. The four- 
teen gentlemen were all removed to Newgate. 

From his prison chamber, Penn wrote to his sick 
father daily ; and his letters breathe the most af- 
fectionate and devoted spirit. He deplores the 
Admiral's illness, and his own compulsory ab- 
sence from his bed-side; but the cause of English 
freedom is at stake, he is detained contrary to 
law, and he beseeches his family not to think of 
paying the fine in order to get him out. How- 
ever anxious to be near his father at such a time, 
he would do nothing unworthy ; he would trust in 
God and in the justness of his cause. Even when 
112 



OLD BAILEY. 

Bushel and his fellows had been acquitted. Penn 
and Mead refused to pay their fines, but a few days 
after their removal, a turnkey came to them with 
news that some unknown friend had paid their 
fines — and they were free to go away. 

Admiral Penn was lying on his death-bed. The 
excitement caused by his son's arrest, imprison- 
ment, and trial had made him worse; and when 
William hastened home from Newgate toWanstead 
he was scared to find that, in the opinion of med- 
ical men, his father had only a few days to live. 

'Son William,' said the veteran, 'I am weary of 
the world ; 1 would not live my days over again, 
if I could command them with a wish ; for the 
snares of life are greater than the fears of death.' 
The Admiral had ceased to think of his great dis- 
appointment ; but he retained his patriotic ardour 
to the last. He bewailed the corruption of the 
age, the profligacy in high places, the daily traffic 
in justice, the contempt into which the court was 
falling, the rottenness at home, the decline of pow- 
er abroad. He gave his children three maxims as 
a legacy : ' First — Let nothing in this world tempt 
you to wrong your conscience; so you will keep 
peace at home, which will be a feast to you in the 
day of trouble. Secondly — Whatever you design to 
do, lay it justly and time it seasonably, for that 
gives security and despatch. Lastly — Be not 
troubled at disappointments; for if they may be 
recovered, do it; if they cannot, trouble is vain: 
if you could not have helped it. be content; there 
is often peace and profit in submitting to provi- 
dence, for afflictions make wise : if you could have 
helped it, let not your trouble exceed your in- 
struction for another time. These rules, ' said the 
Admiral, 'will carry you with firmness and com- 
fort through this inconstant world.' 
8 113 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

The dying man had risen into that region which 
is above the fear and favour of the world. His 
frame of mind was calm, confiding, and religious. 
He talked a good deal with his son ; and in the 
end not only forgave him. but approved of what 
he was doing. 'Son William,'— these were almost 
the last words he uttered, — 'if you and your 
friends keep to your plain way of preaching, and 
also keep to your plain way of living, you will 
make an end of priests to the end of the world.' 
For himself, however, he died, as he had lived, a 
member of the Church. He added, * Bury me near 
my mother; live all in love. Shun all manner of 

evil I pray God to bless you all, and He 

will bless you.' 

Eleven days after the trial Admiral Penn was 
gone. With a life-interest in his estate reserved to 
Lady Penn —his daughter Margaret being mar- 
ried,— he left the whole of his property, his plate, 
his household furniture, the money owing to him 
by government, his lands in England and in Ire- 
land, his claims in Spain, his claims in Jamaica, 
his gold chain and medal, and the sole executorship 
of his last will and testament to his Quaker son. 
Altogether this property was of very considerable 
amount. Besides the claims on the State for 
money lent to it and for arrears of salary — not 
much under 15.000/.— the estates brought their 
owner, on the average, about fifteen hundred 
pounds a-year. 

Fearing, not without good cause, from what had 
happened, that, unless his son were held up and 
supported by powerful friends, his life would be* 
one continual act of martyrdom. Sir William had 
sent from his death-bed to both the King and the 
Duke of York to solicit at their hands those kind 
oflBces to his son which they had been ever ready 
ll-i 



OLD BAILEY. 

to extend towards himself. The royal brother.^ 
had returned a flattering answer. James under- 
took the oflBce of guardian and protector to the 
young man : — the natural origin of that connex- 
ion between the Quaker gentleman and the Cath- 
olic prince which afterwards created so much talk. 
As Penn told the delegates of Magdalen College, 
in after days the questions which made him inti- 
mate with the prince were such as affected his 
property, not his creed. 



115 



CHAPTEK XIV. 

GuLi Spkixgett (1670-1671). 

Giilielma Maria, daughter of Sir William Spring- 
gett. of Darling, in Sussex, one of the leaders of the 
Parliamentary forces during the first years of the 
civil war, was living with her mother at the vil- 
lage of Chalfont. in Buckinghamshire, when her 
future husband first saw her. Guli was the delight 
of a small circle, including persons no less famous 
than John Milton, Thomas Ellwood, and Isaac 
Pennington. To Pennington, who was Guli's step- 
father. Ellwood owed his introduction to his great 
master. When the ravages of plague had driven 
the bard from London, he went dovra to Chal- 
font with his pupil, knowing that friends were 
living there who shared his opinions and revered 
his genius. Rarely is an unpretending village hon- 
oured with such company as Chalfont boasted in 
those days. Pennington occupied the Grange, 
which he rebuilt and beautified ; Milton lived in a 
cottage at a distance ; Ellwood had a house mid- 
way between the residences of his friends. To Guli, 
Ellwood had been a mate from childhood ; one of 
her little i)layfellows in the hop-gardens of Kent, 
and in his manhood he was one of her most con- 
stant and devoted squires. It is not easy to de- 
cide which of the attractions of Chalfont — his mas- 
ter or his mistress — was the greater for Ellwood. 
To Milton he was warmly attached ; and though 
his love for Guli Springett was true and earnest. 
it was not so fierce as to be beyond control. 
Sought and flattered by men of all ranks, by peers 
113 



GTJLI SPRINGETT. 

and commoners, by courtiers and puritans, Guli 
must have been well aware of her power. She can- 
not fail to have felt flattered by Ellwood's silent 
homage. As he never gave offence by obtruding 
passion on her thought, she graciously received 
his attentions and contracted for him a friendship 
which lasted without a day of coldness on either 
side until her death. 

Guli was fond of music. Music was Milton's jms- 
sion. Jn the poet's cottage in the philosopher's 
grange the hours flew past between psalms of 
love converse from the bard, old stories of the 
war, in which the elder people had played their 
parts and favourite passages from that stupend- 
ous work which was to crown the aged poet. It 
was to these friends that Milton first made known 
that he had written Paradise Lost ; it was also in 
their society that Ellwood suggested to him 
the theme of Paradise Regained. Immortal 
Chalfont 1 

Penn going down to Chalfont to f-ee his friend 
Pennington, was struck by Guli's charms. He saw. 
he loved he prospered in his love. All other suitors 
were forgotten and the heart of Guli Springett 
passed from her for ever. In the handsome person, 
in the social station in the sober bearing of her 
suitor, Guli found the hero of her waking dreams. 
The circumstances of the tin e and recollections 
of the past, were not without their influence on 
his love. To understand these influences, it is 
requisite to look on the romantic story of Guli's 
house. 

The father of Sir William Springett died in the 
third year of his marriage leaving a widow and 
three infant children— one of them unborn — to in- 
herit a good name and a moderate fortune. His 
widow devoted herself to the education of her 
117 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

children and they grew up to be an honour to 
their native land. She was herself a character. 

'To her son William,' says Lady Springett. in 
a memoir which she wrote for Guli Penn's eldest 
son, 'she was a most tender and affectionate 
mother, and always showed great kindness to- 
wards me; indeed she was very honourable iu 
counselling her son not to marry for an estate and 
put by great offers of persons with thousands, 
urging him to consider what would make him 
happy in a choice.' Mary Proud, the memoir- 
writer— a daughter of Sir John Proud, a colonel 
in the service of the Dutch Republic— was then liv- 
ing in the same house with the Springetts ; and 
being a young girl of great beauty and spirit, of 
nearly the same age as Sir William, and of his 
own station in society, both mother and son not 
unnaturally cast their eyes on their fair ward. 
Lady Springett, writing more than forty years 
after these events, in describing them to her grand- 
son Penn's eldest son William, says, 'She pro- 
posed my marriage to him. because w^e were bred 
together from children, I being nine, he twelve 
years old when we first came to live together. 
She would discourse with him in this wise : — that 
'she knew me, and we were known to one another;' 
she said, 'she should choose me for his wife before 
any one with a great portion, even if I had no por- 
tion, because of these things and of our equality 
in outward conditions and years. She lived to 
see thy mother (Guli) three or four year old.' 

Colonel Springett. Guli's father, had spent his 
money as freely as his blood. He had served with- 
out pay, and kept a mess-table for his officers at 
his own expense ; so that when he died at three-and 
twenty his affairs were not a little out of order, 
but the energy and prudence of Lady Springett 
118 



OULI SPRINGETT. 

kept them from falling into ruin. Other cares as- 
sailed the widow. Her husband had fought and 
died for his religious opinions ; and even before 
then he had inspired her with all his own religious 
fervour, which she, with her woman's nature and 
in her lonely condition soon allowed to overmas- 
ter her. The details she had left of the agony of 
heart suffered during the first two years of her 
widowhood are full of that solemn striving after 
a better life which may be accounted either wis- 
dom or insanity according to the point of view. 
At length she met with one who, like herself, was 
out at sea. This man was Isaac Pennington. In 
the manuscript history of her life she tells the 
story:— 'My love was drawn to him because I 
found he saw the deceits of all notions, and lay 
as one that refused to be comforted so that he 
was sick and weary of all that appeared.; and in 
this my heart clove to him, and a desire was in 
me to be serviceable to him in his desolate condi- 
tion, for he was alone and miserable in the world 
—and I gave up much to be a companion to him 
in this suffering.' Some time after their marriage 
they found the comfort they were seeking in the 
system preached by George Fox, of which William 
Penn was now the champion. 

What wonder that the graceful and intrepid 
Penn should be a welcome visitor at Chalfont ; 
what wonder that the fair Guli, herself a Quaker, 
should smile on her new suitor, and consent to be 
his wife 1 



119 



CHAPTEE XV. 
. Bond and Free (1671-1672). 

While Penn was living in the poetic circles of 
Chalfont, he began to study the Catholic Ques- 
tion seriously, and in his twenty-sixth year he 
gave the world his thoughts upon it. In his ' Ca- 
veat against Popery' he refutes the dogmas of 
that Church ; but he makes a large distinction 
between Catholic and Catholicism ; a distinction 
never made in that age, and too seldom made 
even now. While he denounced the creed as con- 
trary to reason and Scripture, to conscience and 
human liberty, he pleaded for toleration to the 
men who had been trained to think it true. Tol- 
eration to doctrine he was forced in conscience 
to condemn ; but toleration to the disciple he af- 
firmed with all his might. Here was a new and 
startling theory. Few men were then prepared to 
understand it ; fewer still to act upon it ; yet the 
theory was true, and made its way. 

When Admiral Penn was dead, and William 
Penn his son had dropped from sight at court, 
the city Dogberries, Starling and Robinson, 
thought the time for their revenge had come. 
Their plot was certain to succeed. It was a pun- 
ishable offence to refuse the oath of allegiance 
when it was offered by a magistrate; and as a 
Quaker could not take an oath, it was only neces- 
sary to seize his person, put him to the proof, 
and then commit him for contempt. To mask 
the evil animus, the arrest must be on other 
grounds; they chose to consider the Quakers' 
meeting-house in Wheeler Street, which Penn at- 
120 



BOND AND FREE. 

tended, an illegal meeting; though they would 
not trust a jury on the point. These City alder- 
men set spies on Penn, who made reports to them 
of his comings and goings, his sayings and do- 
ings. They learned his daily haunts; and often 
in the morning they could tell how he intended 
to bestow his day. Their agents were about his 
heels ; and as he feared no evil and had nothing 
to conceal, their plot soon took effect. On his 
return from Bucks he went to Wheeler Street as 
usual when a sergeant and picquet of soldiers en- 
tered the room, and as he rose to address the peo- 
ple, pulled him down and dragged him into the 
street, where a constable and assistants being in 
readiness, they carried him to the Tower, lodged 
him in a dungeon, and left a guard at his door. 
After a lapse of three or four hours he was 
brought before his enemies. Robinson, Sheldon, 
and a few other magistrates were present. 

Robinson: 'What is this person's name?' 

Constable: 'Mr. Penn, sir.' 

Robinson: 'Is your name Penn?' 

Penn: 'Dost thou not know me?' 

Robinson: 'I don't know you. I don't desire 
to know such as you.' 

Penn: 'If not, why didst thou send for me 
hither?' 

Robinson: 'Is that your name, sir?' 

Penn: 'Yes, yes, my name is Penn. I am not 
ashamed of my name.' 

Robinson: ' Constable, where did you find him?' 

Constable: 'At Wheeler Street, at a meeting; 
speaking to the people.' 

Robinson: 'You mean, he was speaking to an 
unlawful assembly.' 

Constable: 'I don't know indeed, sir; he was 
there, and he was speaking.' 
121 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Robinson: 'Give them their oaths.' 

Penn: 'Hold, don't swear the men; there is no 
need of it. I freely acknowledge I was in Wheeler 
Street, and that I spoke to an assembly of people 
there.' 

Robinson: 'He confesses it.' 

Fenn: 'I do so. I am not ashamed of my tes- 
timony.' 

Robinson : ' No matter ; give them their oaths. 
. . . Mr. Penn, you know the law better than I do, 
and you know these things are contrary to law.' 

Penn: 'If thou believest me to know the law 
better than thyself, hear me, for I know no law I 
have transgressed. . . Now I am probably to be 
tried by the late act against Conventicles ; I con- 
ceive it doth not reach me.' 

Robinson: 'No, sir. I shall not proceed upon 
that law.' 

Sir John Robinson named the Oxford Act; but 
in a moment Penn showed him that the law so 
called could not apply to him. Driven to their 
kennel, the two Dogberries brought out the oath 
of allegiance, and Sir John cried out abruptly and 
angrily, 'Wilt thou take the oath?' 'This is not 
to the purpose,' replied Penn. in the midst of an 
ingenious protest against their endeavour to pp- 
ply to his case fragments of different and dis- 
similar laws. 'Read him the oath.' roared the 
lieutenant. Penn refused to swear ; alleging as his 
reason that his conscience forbade him to take up 
arms at all, much more against his sovereign. 

Robinson: 'I am sorry you put me upon this 
severity. It is no pleasant work to me.' 

Penn: 'These are but words. It is manifest 
this is a prej)ense nialice. Thou hast several 
times laid the meetings for me. and this day par- 
ticularly.' 

122 



BOND AND FREE. 

Robinson: 'No. 1 profess 1 could not tell you 
would be there.' 

Penn : ' Thine own corporal told me that you 
had intelligence at the Tower, that 1 should be at 
Wheeler ^Street to-day. almost as soon as I knew 
it myself. This is disingenuous and jiartial. 1 
never gave thee occasion for such unkindness.' 

Robinson: '1 knew no such thing; but if I had, 
I confess I should have sent for thee.' 

Fenn: 'That confession might have been spared. 
I do heartily believe it.' 

Robinson: 'I vow. Mr. Tenn. J am sorry for 
you. You are an ingenious gentleman ; all the 
world must allow that ; and you have a plentiful 
estate. Why should you render yourself unhappy 
by associating with such a simple people?' 

Penn: '1 confess I have made it my choice to 
relinquish the company of those that are ingen- 
iously wicked, to converse with those who are 
more honestly simple.' 

Robinson: 'I wish thee wiser.' 

Penn: 'I wish thee better.' 

Robinson: 'You have been as bad as other 
folks.' 

Penn: 'When and where? I charge thee to tell 
the company to my face.' 

Robinson : ' Abroad— and at home too.' 

Sheldon: 'No. no. Sir John. That's too much.' 

Penn: 'I make this bold challenge to all men, 
justly to accuse me with ever having heard me 
swear, utter a curse, or speak one obscene word — 

much less that I make it my practice Thy 

words shall be my burden, and 1 trample thy 
slander under my feet.' 

Robinson: 'Well. Mr. Penn. 1 have no ill-will 
towards you. Your father was my friend, and I 
have a great deal of kindness for you.' 
12'6 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEXN. 

Penn: 'Thou hast an ill way of expressing 
it. . .' 

Robinson: 'Well. I must send you to Newgate 
for six months, and when they are expired you 
will come out.' 

Penn : ' Is that all ? Thou well knowest a longer 
imprisonment has not daunted me. Alas, you 
mistake your interests; this is not the way to 
compass your ends.' 

Robinson: 'You bring yourself into trouble. 
You will be heading of parties, and drawing peo- 
ple after you.' 

Penn : ' Thou mistakest. There is no such way 
as this to render men remarkable.' 

Robinson : ' I wish your adhering to these things 
do not convert you to something at last.' 

Penn: *I would have thee and all men know 
that I scorn that religion which is not worth suf- 
fering for, and able to sustain those that are 

afflicted for its sake Thy religion persecutes, 

mine forgives. I desire God to forgive you all 
that are concerned in my commitment, and I 
leave you all in perfect charity.' 

Robinson : ' Send a corporal with a file of mus- 
queteers with him.' 

Penn: 'No, no; send thy lacquey. I know the 
way to Newgate.' 

During the whole of his long period of six 
months in jail, Penn was busily employed in writ- 
ing; and as the results of this labour, not less 
than four important treatises came from his hand : 
1. The Great Case of Liberty of Conscience. 2. 
Truth rescued from Imposture. 8. A Post- 
script to Truth exalted. 4. An Apology for the 
Quakers. Three of these works are of considera- 
ble length; and one of them 'The Great Case 
of Liberty of Conscience,' is not only in itself 
124 



BOND AND FREE. 

a noble piece of work. but. from the nature 
of its subject, one which ought to be familiar 
to every one. Besides these larger works the 
prisoner wrote many letters on public and pri- 
vate business. The young lady of Chalfont. 
from whom he had so lately jarted. would 
naturally occupy not a few of his thoughts; 
but the cause in which they were jointly em- 
barked had the first claim on his services. Be- 
sides long letters written to a Catholic who had 
taken offence at his 'Caveat against Popery.' and 
to the Sheriffs of London on the state of Newgate, 
and the abuses practised by the jailers on such 
as either could not or from scruples of con- 
science would not, buy their favours; he wrote a 
dignified and temperate letter to the High Court 
of Parliament, then known to be contemplating a 
more rigorous enforcement of the act against con- 
venticles, explaining the principles of his body as 
to civil and political affairs, proving that the free- 
dom they claimed was in no way dangerous to 
the State. 

When his term of imprisonment was up. he went 
abroad for a time ; at first into Holland and after- 
wards into Germany, neither of which countries he 
had seen in his earlier travels. He could speak the 
Low Dutch pretty well, and made some converts 
to his opinions. Embden was one of the cities in 
which he made a great impression. The first meet- 
ing was held in the house of Dr. Haesbert, who 
was deeply struck with the new doctrines proposed 
by the English missionary; and after giving the 
matter three months' consideration. Haesbert 
openly embraced them, and w^as the first Quaker in 
that i)art of the continent. About twelve months 
later Frau Haesbert joined him. and a godly 
meeting was in course of time formed in Embden, 
125 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

which looked to Penn with the feelings of a con- 
verted country to the apostle of its conversion. 
In the days of persecution which soon came upon 
them — when the members of the new sect were 
flogged in public, cast into loathsome dungeons, 
fed on bread and water, mulcted in heavy fines, 
and even banished from their native land— his 
voice was ever raised in their defence and his in- 
fluence used for their protection. 

There were at this time many other religious 
communities in Holland in which Penn took a 
deep interest — various members of the great Puri- 
tan party of England, who had crossed over into 
that country on the return of the Stuarts, with 
the intention of ultimately migrating to the new 
world. To all these exiled sects America was the 
land of promise, the subject of their daily talk 
and nightly dreams. Many ships filled with emi- 
grants had already gone out. At religious meet- 
ings and in domestic circles the accounts sent 
home by the adventurers of the perils of the sea- 
voyage, of the beauty and fertility of the new 
country, were read and re-read ; and hardly a year 
passed by that did not witness the departure of 
a fresh band of these devout and sturdy found- 
ers of the great republic. The stories told by 
those who for a time were left behind of the trials 
from which they and their fellows had fled, of their 
unconquerable desire to found a free state in the 
depths of the wilderness, where every man should 
be able to worship God according to his con- 
science, of the dangers which their predecessors 
in the good work encountered and overcame, of 
their own anxiety to follow them to their new 
home— all this was deeply interesting to Penn. and 
served to revive the romantic dreams in which he 
had found comfort while at Oxford. Though hia 
126 



BOND AND FREE. 

thoughts on this subject assumed as jet no prac- 
tical shape, his mind became more and more fixed, 
during this tour, on the land to which he saw the 
best men of his age going out as settlers. The 
germ of Pennsylvania was quickening into life. 



127 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Married Life (1672-1673). 

Penn was anxious to be near Guli Springett once 
again. Calling to see his mother at Wanstead on 
his way to London, he made a short stay in the 
capital, visiting old friends, reporting the results 
of his journey, and then posted down to Bucks. 
Received by the people of the Grange with open 
arms, by Guli Springett as her lover, and by Ell- 
wood and Pennington as a champion of their 
faith, he passed in their society a considerable 
time, dallying with the days of courtship, and 
making preparations for his marriage. Not wish- 
ing to disturb Lady Penn at Wanstead, he took 
a house at Rickmansworth. six miles from Chal- 
font; and when everything was ready for Guli's 
reception, the marriage rites were performed in 
the early spring of 1672. 

Their honeymoon lasted long. The spring and 
summer came and went, but Penn was still with 
his young wife at Rickmansworth. No flattery of 
friends, and no attack of foes, could draw him 
from that charming house. Since his expulsion 
from his father's house he had never known so 
much repose. Seeing him surrounded by all that 
makes domestic happiness complete — a charming 
home, a beautiful and loving wife, a plentiful estate, 
the prospect of a family, and a troop of attached 
and admiring friends — those who knewhimonlyat 
second hand imagined that the prisoner of New- 
gate and the Tower would now subside into the 
country gentleman, more interested in cultivating 
his paternal acres than in the progress of an un- 
128 



MARRIED LIFE. 

popular doctrine. Those who reasoned so knew 
little of William Penn, and still less of the lady 
who had now become his wife. Some months 
given up to love. Guli would have scorned the 
man who could sink down into the sloth of the 
affections ; who by outward showing to the world 
would have represented her alliance as bringing 
v/eakness to his character instead of strength. 

The next three years of Penn's life were spent 
in working writing, preaching. Guli rode with 
him from town to town, and as she had no little 
ones as yet in the nursery, she could give up 
all her time to missionary work. As she was past 
her thirtieth year, it seemed as though the name 
of Penn might only live in what her husband wrote 
and said. He never laid his pen aside. Beyond 
his labours as a preacher, he composed in these 
three years no less than twenty-six books of con- 
troversy, some of which were rather long, and two 
political pamphlets— his treatise on Oaths, and 
England's Present Interests considered. 

A controversy with Thomas Hicks, a Baptist 
minister, on the Inner Light, first drew him out 
of his retreat ; and led him to indite his ' Chris- 
tian Quaker,' his 'Reason against Railing.' and 
his ' Counterfeit Christian detected.' Men's minds 
were much unsettled. Two converts, fancying they 
felt a call, set off for Rome in order to convert the 
Pope. They had not been long in the Eternal City 
ere they were arrested as dangerous heretics and 
placed in confinement: — one of them. John Love, 
was sent to the Inquisition, where he died in a 
short time with such aids as the Holy Office used 
for the suppression of heresy ; the other. John 
Perrot. was sent to a hospital for the insane. 
England could not quite abandon them, and after 
a good deal of interest had been made in his be- 
9 129 



LIFK OF WILLIAM LLNX. 

half John Perrot was set at liberty; on which he 
returned to his own country, where he soon gave 
his former friends so much trouble that they 
wished him back again in the Roman bedlam. It 
was in the conduct of men like Perrot that the 
VN-eak side of the new Christian Democracy came 
out. Soon after his return to England he began 
to preach the doctrine that even in prayer the 
hat should not be removed except at the IMvine in- 
stance. This was felt by Penn to be a dangerous 
development of his own idea. Not uncover to 
God 1 It was not only absurd, but destroyed the 
argument on which his own refusal to unbonnet 
to the King was justified. Firm measures were 
taken with the innovator: but. as usual with such 
men. Perrot refused to conform and was expelled 
the society. Thereupon he published a pamphlet 
called the "Spirit of the Plat.' which Penn answered 
in "The Spirit of Alexander the Coppersmith.' 
More pamphlets followed— Penn. as usual, having 
the last and strongest word. 

In April, 1G73, Penn's brother Richard died at 
Wanstead. where his mother still i*esided. Dick 
was buried at Walthamstow. and as he died a 
single man. his fortune passed to his eldest 
brother. 

The session of 1(>7H was occupied by a disjuite 
in the House of Commons as to the King's right 
to issue declarations of Liberty of Conscience 
without consent of Parliament. A majority of the 
Commons declared that his Majesty had exceeded 
his powers. Charles took time to consider his 
answer; and at last replied that his ancestors ".lad 
exercised this disputed right. The Commons said 
it was not so ; on which his Majesty, who said he 
was insulted, threatened to dissolve the House. 
But his more cautious and politic friend. Louis 
130 



MARRIED LIFE. 

Quatorze, advised him to Hubrait, in order to gain 
time till peace wan finally concluded with Holland, 
when the regimentH engaged on the Continent 
could be used against his enemies in Kngland ; 
Louis offering to supply him with money and 
forces from France sufficient to crush every at- 
tempt to resist his royal will. Charles adopted 
this counsel. The very evening on which it was 
offered by C<^lbert on behalf of his august master, 
the King sent f(jr a cojjy of his declaration and 
tore it up in the presence of his mininters. Next 
day this act of grace was made jjublic ; the two 
Houses of Parliament received the intelligence with 
shouts of satisfaction; in the evening bonfires 
burst upon the capital, and every one seemed glad 
that Liberty of Conscience was withdrawn. 

Hardly were these fires extinguished ere the Test 
Act hurried through the Commons with indecent 
haste was sent up to the Peers, and in less than 
ten days one of the most disgraceful laws ever 
passed in England was added to the book of stat- 
utes. Its authors professed to strike only at the 
Papists; and to prove their sincerity they intro- 
duced another bill for the relief of Nonconforming 
Protestants ; but delay followed delay ; the debates 
were adjourned from time to time ; one clause af- 
ter another was amended or struck out ; and pro- 
rogation overtook them before their work was 
fini.shed. and the whole body of Dissenters was 
left at the mercy of any one who might be moved 
to rake the old penal statutes up against them. 

Foremost of these sufferers were the Quakers. 
At this juncture Penn produced his work on ' Eng- 
land's present Interest.' Every line of this pro- 
duction seems written with indignant hand— 'There 
is no law under heaven, which has its rise from 
nature or grace, that forbids men to deal honestly 
131 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and plainly with the greatest' — thus he begins ; 
and addressing himself to those in authority, he 
proceeds to show how the old charters of liberty 
have been violated, adducing specific instances of 
each. He goes at great length into the origin of 
English liberties ; with a view to show that they 
are older in date than our religious feuds. 'We 
were a free people.' he says, 'by the creation of 
God and by the careful provision of our never-to- 
be-forgotten ancestors ; so that our claim to these 
English privileges, rising higher than Protestant- 
ism, can never justly be invalidated on account of 
nonconformity to any tenet or fashion it may i)re- 
scribe. This would be to lose by the Reforma- 
tion.'— His concluding advice to the ruling power 
is— 1. To conserve all the ancient rights and liber- 
ties of the people ; 2. To grant entire freedom to 
opinion in matters of faith ; and. 3. To endeavour 
to promote the growth of true and practical piety. 

Though the composition of this work kept Penn 
at home a good part of the year, his attention 
was continually diverted to special cases of op- 
pression ; and the letters wTitten by him to magis- 
trates, sheriffs, lieutenants of counties and others, 
in behalf of individual sufferers, would fill a vol- 
ume. 

Justice Fleming had been an old friend of the 
Springetts. and years before this date had been 
very kind to Guli when she paid a visit at his house 
in Westmoreland. Penn's letter of remonstrance 
to Fleming, written on receipt of some com- 
plaints of his harshness towards the Quakers in 
his magisterial capacity, is concluded in language 
of much courtliness and beauty. One can fancy 
Guli looking over Penn's shoulder as he wrote 
these words—' However differing 1 am from other 
men circi sncrn, and that world which, respecting 
132 



MARRIED LIFE. 

men, may be said to begin when this ends i know 
no religion that destroys courtesy, civility, and 
kindness/ 

Penn had been five years absent from court ; but 
the arrest of George Fox, his spiritual chief, by 
the Worcester justices, and his imprisonment in 
Worcester Castle on a charge of refu.'-ing to take 
the oaths — George 'would not swear at all'— in- 
duced him to appear once more in that familiar 
scene. Penn went with Captain Mead to Sack- 
ville, who advised that they should see the Duke 
of York, as being the only man with power enough 
to help them. If the Duke would back their cause, 
then he. Charles Sackville, would assist them also; 
but he could not move in such a work alone. 
They went to the Duke's palace, and by means of 
the Duchess's secretary, tried to gain admission; 
but they found the house so full of people and 
the Duke so busy, that the secretary could not 
obtain admission for himself. They were going 
away very sadly, when Colonel Aston, of the 
Duke's bed-chamber, seeing his old friend Penn, 
whom he had lost for a long time, asked him into 
the drawing-room. Aston went into the Duke's 
closet; and James, on hearing who was there, at 
once came out. saying how glad he was to see 
his ward again. James listened to the request 
about Fox with much courtesy, and said he was 
against all persecution for religion's sake. In his 
youth, he confessed, he had been warm against 
sectaries, because he thought they used their con- 
science only as a pretext to disturb the govern- 
ment; but he now thought better of them, and 
was willing to do to others as he hoped to be 
done by. He wished all men were of that opinion ; 
for he was sure no man was willing to be perse- 
cuted for his own belief. He would use his in- 
iS3 



LIFE OF WILLIAM TENN. 

fluence with the King. But where had Penn been 
all these years, and why had he not called before? 
]Ie had promised the Admiral to look after his 
son ; but that son had never showTi himself at 
court. James told his ward to come whenever he 
had any business ; he should always be pleased to 
see him ; and would do his best to fulfil towards 
him the duties of a guardian. 



134. 



CHAPTER XVII. 
Holy Experiment (1G73-1676). 

Love of country was one of the most powerful 
sentiments of a Puritan. But he had other in- 
spirations. Love of i)ersonal freedom— claim to 
the free utterance of his thoughts — determination 
to bend his knee only at the shrine which his con- 
science owned— these things were stronger than 
the love of country, even than the love of life. 
Not lightly, not hastily, did the founders of the 
New World turn their backs on the land which 
had given them birth. Years of wrong and insult 
were required to loosen their tenacious hold of the 
soil which had been ploughed and reaped by their 
Saxon fathers. When endurance was at length 
exhausted they departed more in sorrow than in 
anger; quitting the ports they were never more to 
behold again with blessings on their lips and 
with their faces like their hearts still ti:rned to- 
wards dear old England. In the days cf i eace 
and concord, now and then recurring in the most 
unsettled times, the tide of emigration ebbed ; but 
when the act of indulgence had been cancelled by 
the King, and the fury of persecution began to 
fill the jails with victims, plans for founding a 
New Home beyond the seas, away from the old 
political and religious rivalries of Europe for the 
persecuted of all creeds and nations, were revived. 

To Penn this dream had been more or less fa- 
miliar from his youth. At twelve years old the 
victories of his father in Jamaica turned his fan- 
cies towards the West. By usage Admiral Penn 
should have received his share of the conquered 
135 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

lands and but for his arrest by Cromwell an 
estate -a very large one— in that island, would 
have come to Penn. It might come any day. The 
Admiral's claims against the crown were still un- 
settled, and the King might choose to pay his 
debts by giving up the lands which Cromwell had 
withheld, 'n the retirement of his family in Ire- 
land Penn had been employed in planting an 
English colony on foreign soil; at Wanstead and 
in the Navy Gardens the subject of buying an 
estate in the New World had been often raised ; in 
his hour of excitement and disobedience at Oxford, 
he had turned to these earlier projects and laid 
out a new Oceana or Utopia in his fancy; at 
the yearly meetings of his own religious society 
the settlement of the Quakers in Jamaica in New 
England, and on the Delaware, had been frequent- 
ly discussed. The journey he had recently made 
into Holland and Germany had roused the gath- 
ering zeal of years. At Amsterdam, at Leyden, 
in the cities of the Middle Ehine. his imagination 
was excited by the stories he had heard from rela- 
tives and friends of those who had crossed the 
Atlantic in their barks. At length his mind be- 
gan to fix itself on what he called the Holy Ex- 
periment of planting a religious democracy in the 
western world. 

His first connexion with the continent on which 
he was to build himself s(, monument was in the 
affairs of New Jersey. No reader need be told that 
in the reign of Charles the Second many of the 
colonies in America were either given or sold away 
to private persons. In accordance with his princi- 
ple of misrule the King made over to his brother 
James the province of New Netherland, then 
stretching from the shores of the Delaware river to 
the Connecticut river, even before a single rood of 
186 



HOLY EXPEKIMENT. 

land had yet been wrested from the Dutch. Two 
months before the conquest of that country. James 
in turn had granted to Lord Berkeley and Sir 
George Carteret, in equal shares, the region lying 
between the Hudson river and the Delaware river. 
When the English forces took possession of the 
country, these old names and boundaries were 
removed, and in honour of Sir George Carteret 
(a Jersey man) the province became New Jersey. 
As the object of nearly all noble owners of such 
estates was to make money, they offered such con- 
cessions — or constitutions — as would attract a 
crowd of able, energetic, and wealthy men. With- 
out being advocates of civil and religious liberty, 
the speculators not unfrequently established in 
their colonial possessions enlarged and liberal 
laws. The owners of New Jersey offered some 
concessions in this spirit. A number of Puritans 
set sail from the port of New Haven, with a view 
to establish themselves in the new territory ; and 
having reached the Passaic, they held a council 
there with Indian tribes, changed the name of the 
settlement to New Ark. and laid the foundations 
of a democratic state. Under their free and vigor- 
ous rule the province rapidly increased ; the Qua- 
kers took an interest in it, and a few of them 
went out. But Berkeley in a short time grew dis- 
satisfied ; disputes arose about quit-rents and 
privileges ; and the Earl found his ease disturbed 
by murmur and remonstrance from men into 
whose hands he had passed away the reins. These 
troubles made him anxious to sell his share ; and 
as Fox had just returned from a visit to the Eng- 
lish settlements in America, the Quakers opened 
a communication with Berkeley, who agreed to sell 
his share in the province for a thousand pounds. 
The buyers, John Fenwick and Edward Billing, 
137 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

quarrelled, and the matter was referred to Penn. 
The letters still extant show that Fen wick was 
disposed to resist the award ; but a rebuke from 
Penn, in which he spoke in noble and affecting 
language of the meanness of such quarrels, brought 
him round. 'Thy grandchildren.' said the expos- 
tulator to his client, 'may be in the other world 
before the land thou hast allotted will be em- 
ployed.' 

Fenwick, with his family and a number of emi- 
grants, set sail in the ship Griffith for New Jersey, 
and ascending the Delaware a considerable dis- 
tance, found a fertile and pleasant spot, where 
they landed their goods and chattels, formed a 
settlement, and called the town Salem— place of 
peace and rest. Meantime the affairs of Billing 
got involved. Unable to meet his creditors, Bill- 
ing gave up his property into the hands of trus- 
tees. Penn was one of these trustees. Full of his 
old dreams of a model state, and fresh from the 
study of Harrington and More, Penn was not con- 
tent to carry on the government of the province 
as he found it, simply as a commercial venture, 
and without regard to the working out of great 
ideas. Sydney's lessons had made a deep impres- 
sion on his mind ; and Locke's constitution for 
Carolina was ever present to his thoughts. The 
first attempt to lay the foundations of a free 
colony was obstructed by the joint ownership of 
the soil, as even within the limits prescribed by 
law. the trustees of Billing could only exercise a 
semi-sovereignty, while Sir George Carteret re- 
mained co-partner. The object, then, which lay in 
front of every effort for the good of the settlers, 
was such a division of the province as should 
separate Carteret's share from the rest ; and this 
result was obtained by Penn after a troublesome 
138 



HOLY EXPERIMENT. 

negotiation, on giving up the best half of the 
estate to the agents of the old proprietor, which 
was henceforth known as the province of East 
New Jersey— that retained by the Quakers being 
called from its geographical position West New 
Jersey. By these two names the provinces were 
known for many years. 

Left free to act, the trustees began their opera- 
tions by dividing the land into a hundred lots, ten 
of which were made over to John Fenwick in satis- 
faction of his claims. The other ninety lots were 
put up for sale, and the creditors being satisfied, 
Penn got power to carry out his own ideas in 
the work of settling a fundamental pact. As yet 
the mind of the legislator was itself in ferment. 
Harrington and the classic republicans still exer- 
cised a powerful influence over him ; and it was 
not till some years later that his genius — aided by 
Algernon Sydney— found its highest expression in 
the laws and charters of the state which bears his 
name. 

An outline of the new constitution for West 
New Jersey may be given in a few words : — the 
rights of free worship were secured— the legislative 
power was given in a great measure to the peo- 
ple—representatives were to be elected, not in the 
old way of acclamation, but by the ballot-box — 
every man of mature age and free from crime was 
an elector and was eligible for election — the execu- 
tive power was vested in ten commissioners, to 
be appointed by the general assembly— the office 
of interpreting the law and pronouncing verdicts 
was confided to the juries, as Penn contended was 
the case in England by the ancient charters— and 
the judges, elected for two years, sat in the courts 
simply to assist the juries in arriving at a correct 
decision — the state was made to charge itself with 
139 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

the education of all orphan children— no man 
was to be shut up in prison for debt. By these 
provisions and the laws which were to follow, 
Penn believed he was laying a foundation for those 
who came after him to understand their liberties 
as Christians and as men. 

While he was toiling at the grounds of his Holy 
Experiment Penn had the happiness to become a 
father. Guli bore him a son. whom Penn called 
Springett, after her heroic sire. As he was now 
a family man, he thought it right to have a house 
of his own besides Shangarry Castle in county 
Cork ; and after looking through the lovely south- 
ern shires, he fixed on Worminghurst in Sussex; 
as a high and healthy spot, seven miles from 
Shoreham, with noble timber in the park and air 
kept fresh by breezes from the sea. For this es- 
state he paid four thousand five hundred pounds ; 
and got a bargain in it, since the surplus wood 
was worth, as he supposed, two thousand pounds, 
Sydney had a place in the neighbourhood. On this 
noble Sussex down Penn nursed his first-born son. 
and perfected his frame of government for a Free 
State. 

When this document was finished, the trustees 
met and resolved on its publication in the shape 
of a letter, which they signed. A brief description 
of the soil, air. climate, natural productions, and 
other features of West New Jersey followed ; and 
it is characteristic of Penn that he added a cau- 
tionary postscript to his countrymen against in- 
dulging, without sufficient cause in the thought 
of seeking for a new home— of leaving their native 
laud either out of curiosity, from a love of change, 
or in the spirit of gain. Yet Worminghurst was 
soon besieged with applications for plots of land 
in the Free State. Two companies were formed to 
140 



HOLY EXPERIMENT. 

establish trade and promote emigration, one in 
Yorkshire and one in Middlesex. The members of 
the Yorkshire company were chiefly creditors of 
Billing ; as a set-off to their claims they received 
from the trustees ten of the original hundred 
parts of land. By cancelling these debts the prop- 
erty was freed. 

The purchasers of land at once made prepara- 
tions for the voyage. Before there was yet a peo- 
ple in West New Jersey. Penn found it desirable to 
have an authority, legally constituted, to conduct 
the enterprise ; and with this view he proposed to 
institute a provisional government — himself select- 
ing some of its members. Fen wick's party and the 
two companies nominating the other members. 
Thomas Olive and Daniel Wills were appointed to 
act as commissioners by the London company; 
Joseph Helmsly and Robert Stacey by the York- 
shire proprietors ; Richard Guy was named on be- 
half of the former emigrants ; and to these were 
added Benjamin Scott, John Kinsey. and three 
others. These ten persons were to exercise the 
powers of the ten commissioners mentioned in the 
fundamental laws until such time as a popular 
government, chosen in a legal and orderly way, 
could be organised, on which their functions were 
to cease. 

Penn organised the emigration, and engaged 
the good ship Kent, Gregory Marlow. master, to 
carry out the commissioners, their families and 
tenants, to the number of two hundred and thirty 
persons. The vessel was moored high up in the 
Thames ; at the hour fixed for her departure the 
emigrants went on board accompanied by their 
friends; and the master was just on the point of 
weighing anchor, amid the tears and embraces of 
relatives about to part for ever, when a light and 
141 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

gilded barge was seen to be gliding over the 
smooth waters towards them. Something in the 
appearance of the Kent had caught the attention 
of its occupants for the boatmen now seen to 
be attired in the royal livery, used their oars as 
if they had been ordered to come alongside. It 
was the King. He asked the name of the ship 
and whither it was bound. Being answered, he 
inquired if the emigrants were all Quakers to 
which they answered Yes ; on which he gave them 
his blessing, and pulled away. 

Two other vessels followed the Kent; one of 
them sailed from Hull with a body of emigrants 
from Yorkshire, the other from London freighted 
with a hundred and fourteen persons from the 
southern counties. When the new-comers arrived 
at their destination, Andros. governor of New 
York, claimed jurisdiction over them and their 
territory, justifying his claim by reference to the 
feudal law and the colonial charter; but both 
parties fortunately were moderate in their tone, 
and while the question of rights was referred to 
the mother country, the Quakers entered into 
treaties with the natives for the purchase of land, 
and under a sail-cloth, set up in the forest of 
Burlington, began to assemble for public worship. 
The native tribes came from their hunting-grounds 
to confer with these peaceful strangers, who car- 
ried purses in their hands to pay for what they 
required , instead of muskets to seize on it by force. 
' You are our brothers,' said the Sachem chiefs, 
after hearing their proposals, 'and we will live like 
brothers with you. We will have a broad path 
for you and us to walk in. If an Englishman 
falls asleep in this path, the Indian shall i)ass him 
by and say — He is an Englishman ; he is asleep ; 
let him alone. The path shall be plain. There 
142 



HOLY EXPERIMENT. 

ehall not be in it a stump to hurt the feet.' Com- 
menced under such auspices. West New Jersey- 
prospered. Land was sold and cleared. The Sa- 
chems kept the peace. The population multiplied. 
Some letters written by the leaders of their party 
in England to these happy colonists are still ex- 
tant; from these it would be inferred that in a 
very few years West New Jersey had become a new 
Arcadia— that the Holy Experiment was a safe 
success— that Penn had realised the State which 
Sydney had conceived and Harrington had 
dreamed. 



143 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
Work and Travel (1677). 

Having got his Holy Experiment under shape 
Penn turned his thoughts to those Dutch and 
Rhenish towns in which he had planted Quaker 
congregations. Not a few of these societies had 
fallen into bad ways; some were suffering perse- 
cution ; some were rent by quarrels ; all were anx- 
ious for his presence. Those who suffered from 
their feudal lords were eager to be told about 
that Free State which he was helping to found in 
the great deserts beyond the sea. For each he 
had a message full of hope. The Princess Eliza- 
beth, who held her court at Herwerden, begged 
her ' affectionate friend' to pay her a second visit 
now that his affairs allowed him time. 

Leaving Guli and her child at Worminghurst. he 
rode to Harwich, where he found George Fox, 
Robert Barclay, and other Quakers waiting for 
him. Armed with books and tracts, explanatory 
of Quaker doctrines, printed in various languages, 
English. French. Dutch, and German, they took 
their passage in a ship commanded by one of 
Admiral Penn's old officers, who out of affection 
for his former patron let them convert his quar- 
ter-deck into a conventicle. When they came in 
sight of Brill, Penn and Barclay, anxious to land 
ere nightfall, stept into a boat. Before they got 
ashore, the sun went down ; the gates were closed ; 
and as no houses stood outside the walls, they 
had to make their beds in a fisherman's boat. 
At dawn the passengers landed and started im- 
mediately for Rotterdam, where they held meetings 
144 



WORK AND TRAVEL. 

of their friends. Penn spoke in Dutch while the 
eloquence of George Fox had to be interpreted 
word for word. Meetings had been prepared for 
them in all the towns along their route, and three 
Dutch converts, Claus. Arents, and Bocliffs. came 
to them from Amsterdam to conduct them on 
their way. At Lejden and at Haarlem, where 
they held meetings and si^read abroad a knowl- 
edge of their tenets, other deputies from Alchmaer 
and Embden met them. Their journey through 
the country was a triumph. At Amsterdam they 
organised the scattered Quakers and settled some 
of the nicer points of doctrine — such as the non- 
necessity for priest or magistrate as a witness 
to the ceremony of marriage. Another matter 
which came before them was the suffering of their 
disciples in various countries, especially the case 
of certain inhabitants of Dantzic. which city then 
formed a part of the Polish republic. Sobieski, 
King of Poland, was at the time on a visit to 
Dantzic; and Penn advised that a petition should 
be presented to him in the name of the suffering 
citizens, briefly detailing their wrongs and asking 
at his hands the right to worship God according 
to their faith. This petition Penn was desired to 
draw up, which he did in suitable and noble terms, 
quoting most happily a saying of Stephen one of 
Sobieski's most illustrious predecessors— ' I am a 
king of men, but not of consciences ; king of bod- 
ies, not of souls.' 

Leaving Fox at Amsterdam, Penn and Barclay 
went to Herwerden, where the Electress gave them 
a friendly welcome. This pious woman, daughter 
of Frederick. Prince Palatine of the Rhine and 
King of Bohemia was a granddaughter of James 
the First, a cousin to the reigning King of Eng- 
land and a sister of Prince Rupert— the old rival 
10 145 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and enemy of Admiral Penn. The Princess treated 
Penn with courtesy and affection; his gratitude 
survived her; and in one of the subsequent editions 
of 'No Cross, no Crown' he added her name to 
his list of benefactors and examples to mankind. 

Penn and Barclay stayed at an inn of the town, 
but visited the court daily, holding meetings and 
discoursing before her Highness on the principles 
of their creed. They dined at the common table 
of their hotel, where they met with many strang- 
ers, to whom they distributed books and tracts. 
One of these, a student at the college of Duys- 
burg told them of a 'sober and seeking man of 
great note in the city of Duysburg,' which de- 
termined Penn to pay a visit to that town. As 
the last service drew to a close, Elizabeth walked 
up to Penn took him by the hand, and leading 
him aside began to speak of the sense she had of 
God's power and presence; but emotion choked 
her utterance, and she sobbed out, 'I cannot speak 
to you ; my heart is full 1 ' Penn whispered some 
few words of comfort. When she gained her voice, 
she pressed the missionaries to visit her again on 
their return from the Upper Rhine. Penn promised 
to do so if they could. She asked them to sup 
with her that evening, which they at first re- 
fused ; but the lady would not be denied, and they 
yielded so far as to take some bread and wine. 
'We left them.' says Penn, 'in the love and peace 
of God. praying that they might be kept from 
the evil of this world.' 

Next morning Barclay set out to join Fox at 
Amsterdam, while Penn and Keith took places in 
an open cart for Frankfort. Pushing on through 
Paderborn, 'a dark Popish city.' and Cassel, 
where they were 'tenderly received.' obstructed by 
the heavy rains, bad roads, and primitive vehicle, 
14(5 



WORK AND TRAVEL. 

they arrived in Frankfort just a week after leaving 
Ilerwerden. About three miles from Frankfort 
they were met by two merchants who came forth 
to welcome them and report that many of their 
fellow-citizens were prei)ared to receive the faith. 
Doctors, lawyers, ministers of the Gospel, noble 
ladies peasants and handworkers, came to hear 
them preach. One girl cried out, 'It will never 
be well with us till persecution comes, and some 
of us be lodged in the stadthouse.' Penn did not 
neglect the temporal liberties and worldly inter- 
ests of his Church. America was a theme of con- 
versation ; and among those who took an interest 
in the colony were Franz Pastorious. Von Dewalle, 
Dr. Schiitz, and Daniel Behagel. all of whom emi- 
grated in a few years. From Frankfort Penn ad- 
dressed a letter to ' the Churches of Jesus through- 
out the world.' in which he exhorted the faithful 
to take up the cross, to curb the pride of life, and 
to redeem the time. 

Going np the Rhine, the travellers passed 
through ^'orms on the fifth day, and in the even- 
ing arrived at Kirchheim, six miles from Worms. 
In this small place the missionary made a deep 
impression, and the fruits of that day's preaching 
are still visible in Pennsylvania. The home of 
which he told them beyond the seas was hardly 
less welcome to the Protestants of Kirchhgim than 
that better home which he promised them beyond 
the skies. 

Penn was anxious to do something for this 
handful of true believers, and he went to Mann- 
heim to consult with the Prince Palatine, and 
ascertain what encouragement that Prince would 
offer to a colony of virtuous and industrious fam- 
ilies, in the event of a considerable number being 
willing to remove into his territory ; also to learn 
147 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

how they would stand in respect to their refusal 
to take oaths, bear arms and pay ecclesiastical 
taxes. On his arrival at Mannheim, finding the 
Prince had gone to Heidelberg, he contented him- 
self with writing a letter to his Highness, and re- 
turned to Worms that evening by the boat. 

From Worms they dropped down the stream to 
Cologne, and met their disciples at the house of a 
merchant who at their departure furnished them 
with a letter of introduction to Dr. Mastricht of 
Duysburg, which city they were now anxious to 
visit, not only on account of what the student 
had told them of 'the sober and seeking man of 
note.' but because they had been informed by the 
Princess Elizabeth that the young and beautiful 
Countess von Falkenstein, whose father lived in 
that neighbourhood, was seriously inclined. 

Duysburg. a Calvinistic city, lay in the terri- 
tory of the Elector of Brandenburg. On their 
arrival they sought out Dr. Mastricht and de- 
livered their letter. He told them they were very 
fortunate in the time of their visit, as. it being 
Sunday, the young Countess would have left her 
father's castle and crossed the river to Mulheim, 
where she would, as usual, spend the day at a 
clergyman's house. He cautioned them however, 
not to make themselves public, as much for the 
young lady's sake as for their own — her father, a 
coarse and rigorous person, being already much 
displeased with her. Thus warned, they set out for 
Mulheim. On their way they met with Heinrich 
Schmidt, a school-master, who told them the 
Countess had returned. To him they gave the let- 
ter from Dr. Mastricht. In an hour he came to 
say the Countess would be glad to see them, but 
knew not where, as her father kept so strict a 
hand over her. She thought it would be best for 
148 



WORK AND TRAVEL. 

them to cross the water and go to the house of 
her friend the clergyman. While they were talking, 
the Graf with his attendants came from the castle, 
and seeing persons in a foreign dress standing 
near his gate, sent one of his retinue to inquire 
who they were, what they wanted, and whither 
they were going. Before the Graf received his an- 
swers, he walked up and questioned them in person. 
Penn replied, that they were Englishmen from 
Holland, and were going no farther than to his 
own town of Mulheim ; on hearing which answer, 
one of the Graf's gentlemen walked up to the 
strangers with a frown on his face, and asked 
them if they knew before whom they stood ; and 
if they had not yet learned how to deport them- 
selves before noblemen and in the presence of 
princes? Penn answered, he was not aware of any 
disrespect. ' Then why don't you take off your 
hats?' said one. 'Is it respectful to stand cov- 
ered in the presence of the sovereign of the 
country?' The Quakers took no notice of his 
gesture, but replied that they uncovered to none 
but God. 'Well, then' said the Graf, 'get out of 
my dominions; you shall not go to my town.' 
Penn tried to reason with the offended Graf von 
Falkenstein, who called his men, and bade them 
lead these Englishmen out of his estates. 

It was dusk ; they were alone in a strange land ; 
for, after conducting them to a thick forest, the 
soldiers returned to the castle and left them to 
find their own way back. This forest was three 
miles in length, and the roads being unknown to 
them, and the night dark they wandered in and 
out. At length they came into an open country 
and were soon below a city wall. What city? It 
was ten o'clock; the gates were shut. In vain 
they hailed ; no sentinel replied. The town had no 
149 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

suburbs; not a single house or building- stood 
beyond the ditch. They lay down in an open 
field, in search of such repose as they might find 
on the marshy ground of the Lower Rhine. At 
three in the morning they got up. stiff with cold, 
and walked about till five, comforting each other 
with the assurance that a great day for Germany 
was at hand, 'several places in that country being 
almost ripe for the harvest." After the cathedral 
clock struck five the gates were opened, and the 
outcasts gained the shelter of their inn. 

Miistricht was ' surprised with fear, the common 
disease of this country,' says Penn. when he heard 
of the affair with Graf von Falkenstein. He asked 
minutely what had passed, and was relieved to 
find they had not named the Countess. For them- 
selves he thought they had escaped pretty well. 
as the Graf usually amused himself by setting 
his dogs to worry persons who were found loiter- 
ing near his castle gates. 

Failing to see the young Countess. Penn had 
the satisfaction to receive from her a message by 
the hand of her page. In return he wrote to her 
a long letter of consolation; and so he went his 
way. 

Dropping down the Rhine— proclaiming their 
mission in all towns and preparing men for 
emigration— the travellers at length arrived at 
Amsterdam. There they found that Fox had gone 
to Harlingen, whither Penn followed him; and so 
they stayed in Holland and in the countries about 
the Elbe and the Lower Rhine until the winter set 
in, when they again returned to England by way 
of Rotterdam and Harwich. On the passage home 
they met a violent storm. They were at sea three 
days and nights ; the rain fell in torrents ; the 
wind set dead against them ; the vessel sprang a 
150 



WORK AND TRAVEL. 

leak; and labour at the pumps both night and 
day, could hardly keep the hold from filling. P'ear 
fell on the seamen; but no sooner had the danger 
passed away, than they resumed their wanton 
mood. 

On landing at Harwich. Fox proposed to hold a 
meeting in that town and then going on by Col- 
chester and other jjlaces make their way towards 
London. Penn was anxious to be at Worming- 
hurst ; and while his friends were willing to travel 
luxuriously in a cart bedded with straw, he 
mounted the best horse he could find and rode 
away. 



181 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The World (1673). 

For two years after his return from Germany, 
Penu was much in the world and much about the 
court. His position was a strange one. Standing- 
aloof from all intrigues in that intriguing court ; 
taking no direct and personal part in politics ; a 
candidate for no office; seeking no honour, no 
emolument that courts can give ; accustomed from 
his youth to mix on equal terms with peers ; ac- 
quainted with the leading spirits of the day. yet 
free from their ambition and their lust of pleasure ; 
no man's rival in either love, business, or gal- 
lantry ; his neutrality in personal and party strife 
secured to him a larger share of intercourse with 
leading men than any other individual of the time 
enjoyed. While graced so highly by the Duke of 
York, it was easy for him to maintain a high 
standing with the wits, ministers, and favourites, 
who daily thronged the galleries of Whitehall; 
and far beyond that circle he enjoyed the confi- 
dence of men whom no such blandishments could 
win. Not only was he intimate with the Catholic 
Duke of Ormonde and his sons the Farl of Os- 
sory and Lord Arran but also with that cham- 
pion of Protestant doctrine the i)ious Tillotson. 
His virtues were appreciated by the Whig Lord 
Russell the Tory Lord Hyde and the Republican 
Algernon Sydney. Of other men with whom he 
lived at this time on terms of intimacy, there 
were the Duke of Buckingham the Karl of Shafts- 
bury, the Marquis of Halifax the Earl of Sunder- 
152 



THE WORLD. 

land, the Earl of Essex, and Lord Churcbill. 
Some of these friends adopted his views on the 
great subject of Liberty of Faith. Buckingham 
was supporting a more liberal policy in parlia- 
ment; and Penn tried very hard to induce him to 
devote his splendid talents to this national re- 
form. By Penn's advice the Duke made more than 
one attempt ; but the Church party was too wary 
to be surprised too powerful to be overthrown; 
and then a new face a fresh whim a fit of the spleen, 
would distract his grace. In the Duke of York— 
and in him alone — I'enn found a steadfast friend 
to Liberty of Conscience. Penn availed himself 
of the royal favour to obtain a pardon for his 
brethren when they fell under persecution and to 
urge on the great work of securing an act of Tol- 
eration from the House of Commons. 

But the family with which he held the most in- 
timate relations was that of Sydney. With the 
several members of this gifted race he lived on 
friendly terms. Estranged from each other, they 
put confidence in Penn— appealed to his wisdom in 
their difficulties and sometimes placed their inter- 
ests in his charge. Towards Henry Sydney, a man 
younger than himself, Penn retained an affection 
which had commenced in early life; but to his great 
brother Algernon he was at once a friend and pu- 
pil. Henry was nearly twenty years younger than 
his illustrious brother. He had seen but little 
of the best period of the Revolution and had never 
known the purer and more moderate of its chiefs. 
Gifted by nature with a handsome face and a 
voluptuous imagination he had easily taken up 
the courtly habits which he found in fashion when 
he entered life. Between the brothers there was lit- 
tle sympathy and not much love. In his infancy 
Algernon had been remarkable for his fine wit and 
153 



LIFE OF WILLIAM FEXX. 

aatiiral sweetness. In the civil war he had made 
a name for wisdom in the council and for valour 
in the tield. A sincere republican he had opposed 
the designs of Cromwell with as much zeal as he 
had shown in fighting against the King. Abroad 
at the Restoration he had lived in exile rather 
than unsay a single word of his political faith. For 
seventeen years had he lived abroad; his friends 
had made great efforts to obtain for him a par- 
don; but as he would concede nothing the nego- 
tiations had always failed. The utmost that 
could be drawn from him— though wasting away 
v>ith sickness — was a declaration to the effect that 
he was willing to submit to the King, since Par- 
liament had done so. He could on no account 
regret what he had done, renounce his old opin- 
ions, or even ask a pardon. To those who bade 
him distrust the instincts which made him a wan- 
derer and a beggar in a foreign land, he said, *I 
walk in the light which God hath given me. If it 
be dim or uncertain. I must bear the penalty of 
my errors. I hope to do it with patience and 
that no burden should be very grievous to me ex- 
cept sin and shame. God keep me from these 
evils, and in all things else dispose of me accord- 
ing to His pleasure.' 

After an absence of seventeen years Sydney was 
allowed to return to his father's death-bed. Penn 
saw him ; they discussed his schemes. A man of 
Sydney's strength could not remain inactive. Old 
Commonwealth men looked up to him. A A-an- 
quished body, they had great traditions; and 
were very powerful in the towns. If Sydney never 
hid his i)reference of a republic to a monarchy 
he was willing to help in bringing about reforms 
in the government —and one great object of the 
man with whom he acted was to procure an act 
154 



THE WORLD. 

of r'arliariient giving Freedom to ConHcieiice. 
Buckingham H vanity was flattered with the 
thought of being at the head of this body of re- 
formers, but the French agent, M. Harillon saw 
and said that he was swayed by Sydney. 

An imx)ression was produced on the two houses, 
and in the early part of 1678 there had arisen a 
more friendly feeling towards Non-conformers. 
The House of Commons no longer refused to hear 
of grievances ; and J'enn i)resented a petition to 
that body on behalf of suffering Quakers who had 
been confounded with the followers of Rome in 
order to involve them in a common fault and 
fine. A committee was named to see if it were 
possible to relieve the great body of Protestants 
from jjenalties which had been legally imposed on 
Catholics. Penn was heard by this committee. 
'If,' he said, 'we ought to believe that it is our 
duty, according to the doctrine of the Apostle, to 
be always ready to give an account of the hope 
that is in us to every sober and private inquirer, 
certainly much more ought we to hold ourselves 
obliged to declare with all readiness, when called 
to it by so great an authority, what is hot our 
hope ; especially when our very safety is eminently 
concerned in so doing, and when we cannot de- 
cline this discrimination of ourselves from Pap- 
ists without being conscious to ourselves of the 
guilt of our own sufferings, for so must every 
man needs be who suffers mutely under another 
character than that which truly belongeth to him 
and his belief. That which gives me more than 
an ordinary right to speak at this time, and in 
this place, is the great abuse which 1 have re- 
ceived above any other of my profession ; for of 
a long time 1 have not only been supposed a 
Papist, but a Seminary, a Jesuit, an emissary of 
155 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Rome and in pay from the Pope ; a man dedicat- 
ing my endeavours to the interest and advance- 
ments of that party. Nor hath this been the re- 
port of the rabble but the jealousy and insinua- 
tion of persons otherwise sober and discreet. Nay, 
some zealous for the Protestant religion have 
been so far gone in this mistake, as not only to 
think ill of us, and to decline our conversation, 
but to take courage to themselves to pros-ecute 
us for a sort of concealed Papists ; and the truth 
is. we have been as the wool-sacks and common 
whipping-stock of the kingdom ; all laws have been 
let loose upon us, as if the design were not to 
reform, but destroy us; and this not for what 
we are but for what we are not. It is hard that 
we must thus bear the stripes of another interest 
and be their proxy in punishment. I would not 
be mistaken. I am far from thinking it fit that 
Papists should be whipped for their consciences, 
because I exclaim against the injustice of whip- 
ping Quakers for Papists. No; for though the 
hand, pretended to be lifted up against them hath 
lighted heavily on us, yet we do not mean that 
any should take a fresh aim at them, or that 
they should come in our room ; for we must give 
the liberty we ask ; and cannot be falee to our 
l)rinciples. though it were to relieve ourselves. 
We have good-will to all men and would have 
none suffer for a truly sober and conscientious 
dissent on any hand. And I humbly take leave 
to add, that those methods against persons so 
qualified do not seem to me to be convincing, or 
indeed adequate to the reason of mankind." 

To doubt the i)olicy of whipping Papists, was 

in that age fatal. Penn, however, spoke the 

truth ; and spoke it years before John Locke had 

given it form and breadth. The Church was still 

156 



THE WORLD. 

a persecuting Church ; the Catholics were intoler- 
ant in their practice; Puritans, Independents. Pres- 
byterians each appealed in turn to stocks and 
whipping-posts. 

The committee resolved to insert in a bill then 
before Parliament a clause providing relief ; and in 
this amended form the bill, having passed a third 
reading in the lower house went up under promis- 
ing auspices to the Peers. The friends of Tolera- 
tion were already congratulating each other on a 
first victory, when, from an obscure and unex- 
pected quarter, burst a storm. 

Titus Gates was a minister of the Church of 
England till his dissolute life had caused him to 
be expelled. He joined the Roman Catholics; he 
entered the Jesuits' College at \'alladolid ; he af- 
ter .vards removed to that of St. Omer; from both 
of which he was removed in shame. In thete col- 
leges he had heard conversations on the prospects 
of Catholicism in England, and suggestions for 
carrying on the good work of its recovery to the 
ancient faith. A quick imagination framed from 
these materials the Popish Plot. Gates said he 
had been trusted by the Jesuits in Spain and 
France with the conveyance of certain letters and 
papers ; that he had opened these documents out 
of curiosity ; that he had become possessed of dark 
and terrible secrets. England, he asserted, was to 
be the scene of a bloody drama. Charles was to 
be killed. William of Grange was to be also killed. 
Even James the Catholic Duke of York, would 
not be spared. The price of these great crimes 
had been already paid. Every true Protestant 
would be murdered. A French army was to land 
in Ireland. When the reformed faith was ])ut 
down, the whole country would be given up to the 
Jesuits. What the real facts— if any— underlying 
157 



LIFE OF WILLIAM FEXN. 

all these fables were, has never been discovered. 
Men of sober sense believe there were some facts. 
Sydney, than whom no man in that age had a 
more thorough knowledge of the Catholic courts, 
believed in a plot, as Penn believed in a plot, 
^ir William Temple thought there was a plot. 

England was in a temper to receive with eager- 
ness a story of intrigue. The fears of every good 
Protestant were fed with rumours of the royal 
apostasy ; and the only cordial friend of the reign- 
ing house, the King of France, was known to be 
a bigoted servant of his church. Some vague idea 
got abroad that Louis had supplied the court with 
money. Charles was suspected of a secret leaning 
towards the religion of his wife and his mistresses, 
and the Duke of York was an avowed and obsti- 
nate Catholic. Contrary to the wishes of Parlia- 
ment. James had married an Italian ; should there 
be an issue of this alliance, there was a fear that 
a line of Catholic princes might succeed him. 
Thus, the feeling of the country was alarmed; 
and wild as were the stories told by Gates, they 
found a willing audience in the streets. 

On seeing how much was made of Oates by 
men of rank and fashion, Bedloe, Dangerfield, and 
other vscoundrels. brought out newer, more as- 
tDunding tales. The wiser people only laughed at 
these impostors; but the affair of Coleman and 
the murder of Godfrey gave such colour to the 
charge as made it dangerous to express in public 
any doubt as to the plot. 



158 



CHAPTER XX. 

Algernox Sydney (1678-1G79). 

Sydney and Penn were anxious to have the al- 
leged plot .sifted to the quick ; Sydney to uncover 
Royalist intrigues, and Penn to satisfy his mind 
about the Jesuits. Sydney looked for a convenient 
seat. Penn could not go into the House of Com- 
mons, but he used his pen to help in what he 
felt to be his country's need. He issued one ad- 
dress to Quakers. Fearing, in the general conster- 
nation, lest some might be led astray, he exhorted 
them not to be drawn out of their sober course 
by rumours of plots and conspiracies, but to 
stand aloof, discharging their duties, in the peril- 
ous times which were at hand. He wrote a second 
address to Protestants of every denomination. 
These duties done he wrote a tract entitled 'Eng- 
land's great Interest in the Choice of a new Par- 
liament,' composed with a view to promote the 
choice of wise and liberal members at the ap- 
proaching poll. 

In the address to Protestants of every i)arty, 
Penn reviewed the moral question. He began by 
showing the fallacy of vicarious virtue. If the 
people would be honestly governed, they must be 
honest themselves. Vice is the disease of which 
nations die. No just government ever perished — 
no unjust government ever long maintained its 
power. Virtue is the life of society. All history 
proves it; but if immorality is the chief destroyer 
of nations, unwise policy is only a little less inju- 
rious than active vice. Foremost among errors 
159 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

of policy is the attempt to interfere with thought. 
Act, not thought is the proper subject of law. A 
man's conception of such abstractions as fate, 
free-will, election and the like is not a thing to 
punish. No less mischievous is the fallacy of 
measuring conduct by belief. The test of faith is 
practice. He who acts well believes well. Moral- 
ity is debased when tested from above. Virtue 
may be necessary to the state of grace but grace 
is not indispensable to virtue. It is a grand mis- 
take to disjiarage morality under pretence of look- 
ing to higher things. 

* England's great Interest in the choice of a new 
Parliament' \^as political, ^^ydney and he were 
much together at this time ; and iSydney's hand 
is traceable in the pamphlet. Sydney was a fre- 
quent and cherished guest at Worminghurst. ' All 
is at stake I ' says Penn. ' The times demand the 
utmost wisdom. The New Parliament will have 
the gravest duties : — to investigate the i)lot and 
punish its authors ; to impeach corrupt and arbi- 
trary ministers of state; to detect and punish 
representatives who have sold their votes to 
shorten the duration of parliaments ; and. finally, 
to ease Dissenters from the galling cruelties of the 
Conventicle Act and other similar acts. Such 
work required bold and able men.' In sketching 
his man for the day, he had Sydney chiefly in his 
mind. 'The man for England should,' he urged, 
' be able, learned, well affected to liberty ; one who 
will neither buy his seat nor sell his services; he 
must be free from suspicion of being a pensioner 
on the court; he should be a jierson of energy and 
industry, free from the vices and weaknesses of 
to\NTi gallants ; a respecter of principles, but not 
of persons; fearful of evil, but he should be cour- 
ageous in good ; a true Protestant ; above all, a 
160 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

man unconnected by office and favour with the 
court.' 

The writs were issued. Sydney was proposed 
for Guildford. Penn was at his side. 

Hitherto Penn had taken no part in politics. 
His moral sense was hurt by scenes of low cor- 
ruption—by the eating and drinking, by the rev- 
elries and disorders, by the insolence of officials, 
by the envy, malice and uncharitableness to which 
elections then gave rise. But in the interests of 
his friend these scrui)les went for nothing. For 
Sydney and his cause Penn would have done much 
more than give a few weeks to canvassing elec- 
tors, making liberal speeches, and quoting the 
great charters of our liberty. But government 
was little pleased to see him acting as the friend 
of Sydney, and the government had power to 
make him feel the King's displeasure. His ac- 
count was still unsettled. Neither pritcipal nor 
interest of the debts owing to his father had been 
paid ; and it was evident that any settlement of 
his claim would rest on the good will of Charles 
and James. It was his interest therefore to be 
well at court. But he was acting with Sydney ; a 
man who had borne arms against the Stuarts in 
his ardent youth, and in his riper manhood still 
avowed himself a partisan of the Commonwealth. 
To lie under suspicion of republicanism was 
enough to ruin any public man. When Sydney's 
hope of sitting for Guildford became known, the 
Court prepared to oppose his candidature with 
all its power; but Penn paid no respect to this 
hostility, and boldly put in peril the chief part of 
his worldly fortune rather than stand apart. 

The day of election drawing nigh, the Court 
party became very active. Colonel Dalmahoy was 
sent to stand as ' a King's friend ;' the mayor and 
11 161 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

recorder of the town were bought ; bribery, treat- 
ing, intimidation, all the baser practices, were 
brought to bear on Guildford. Soldiers were dis- 
charged from service on promising to vote for 
Dalmahoy. Non-residents were sought. Paupers 
were made to tender votes. To make the Com- 
monwealth-men odious. Penn was accused of be- 
ing a Jesuit. Sydney was branded as a regicide. 
For upwards of three weeks the town was a scene 
of disorder. Both parties feasted their supporters ; 
for the sternest virtue of that age was held to be 
compatible with cakes and ale. 

At length the day of election came. In spite of 
everything the Court could do, Sydney had prom- 
ises of a majority of votes. Penn went with his 
friend to the hustings and made a powerful speech. 
'Don't listen to him; he's a Jesuit.' shouted the 
Recorder; but the people laughed at their Recorder, 
not at Penn. That officer called for a New Testa- 
ment and tendered Penn the oaths — well knowing 
that he would not take them. Penn, the better 
lawyer of the two, said quietly, the offer of an 
oath in such a place was contrary to law. At 
this rebuke the Recorder lost all patience, called 
his men, and pushed the speaker from his seat. 

This use of violence was made too late. Syd- 
ney had a majority of votes. But having gone 
such lengths as he had done to serve his sovereign, 
the Recorder refused to sanction Sydney's poll, on 
the plea that he was not a freeman of the to\\Ti. 

Penn and Sydney held a conference of their 
friends, at which it was resolved to petition 
against the return of Dalmahoy, and persons were 
appointed to watch the movements of the enemy 
and make reports. It was late in the evening 
when Penn parted from Sydney ; he had been from 
home some time; and he was getting anxious 
162 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

about Guli and the little folks. As he rode along, 
his mind was deeply troubled at the scenes he had 
just witnessed— the profligacy and unfairness of the 
Court party.— the indifference of so many electors, 
—the contumely heaped on his noble friend, be- 
cause he and his party 'had a conscientious re- 
gard for England.' When he got home he found his 
family in health ; but instead of giving himself up, 
as usual with him, to domestic intercourse, he 
went to his room and wrote to Sydney. 

' Dear Friend. — I hope you got all well home, as 
I. by God's goodness, have done. I reflected upon 
the way of things past at Guildford, and that 
which occurs to me as reasonable is this, that so 
soon as the articles or exceptions are digested, we 
should show them to Sergeant Maynard. and get 
his opinion of the matter. Sir Francis Winnington 
and Wallope have been used on these occasions 
too. Thou must have counsel before the Com- 
mittee ; and to advise flrst upon the reason of an 
address or petition with them, in my opinion, is 
not imprudent but very fitting. If they say that 
(the conjecture considered, thy qualifications and 
alliance and his ungratefulne.ss to the House) they 
believe all may amount to an unfair election, then 
I offer to wait presently upon the Duke of Buck- 
ingham, Earl of Shaftsbury. Lord Essex. Lord 
Halifax. Lord Hollis. Lord Gray, and others, to 
use their utmost interest in reversing this busi- 
ness. This may be done in five days. I was not 
willing to stay till I come, which will be with the 
first. Remember the non-residents on their side, 
as Legg and others. I left order with all our in- 
terest to bestir themselves, and watch, and trans- 
mit an account to thee daily. I bless God. I found 
all well at home. I hope a disapiiointment so 
163 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

strange (a hundred and forty poll-men as we 
thought last night considered) does not move 
thee. Thou, as thy friends, hast a conscientious 
regard for England ; and to be put aside by such 
base ways is really a suffering for righteousness. 
Thou hast emoarked thyself with them that seek. 
and love, and choose the best things ; and num- 
ber is not weight with thee. 'Tis late I am weary, 
and hope to see thee quickly. Farewell.' 

A petition on behalf of Sydney was sent to the 
House of Commons. Terror of the Popish plot 
had spread, and seldom before had England re- 
turned so implacable and intolerant a parliament. 
Another crisis soon came on. Monmouth had been 
sent into banishment, and his mother branded as 
a wanton. These acts of the Catholic party added 
fuel to the flame : — and the Houses met in a most 
threatening mood. Their rage was prompt. Danby 
was committed to the Tower. The Duke of York 
was banished the realm. The Whigs — the party 
led by Shaftsbury and Russell— were on the eve of 
a decisive victory — when Charles again dissolved. 

Sydney prepared to stand again, but not for 
Guildford. Penn, after riding much about the 
southern counties, testing the feeling of constitu- 
encies, urged him to try the rape of Bramber, where 
the name of Sydney bore with it assurance of 
success. The rape of Bramber lay within five miles 
of Worminghurst, where the Penns had strong 
connexions ; Springetts, Ellwoods, Faggs, Temples ; 
and on all of whom they felt that they might 
count. Penn fell to work with zeal and in a few 
days all these families were in Sydney's camp. 
He tried to enlist the Pelhams in the same cause, 
though in a recent county election he had opposed 
that family in favour of Sir John Fagg. As soon 
164 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

as the writs were out. Penn rode to Bramber. 
Quick and ardent he communicated his own zeal 
to others, and with Sir John Fagg and Sir John 
Temple as his helpers he commenced an active 
canvass. When he spoke of Sydney's virtues things 
looked well; but when hU partners in the canvass 
treated the men to beer in Sydney's name, they 
looked much better. As the rape of Bramber had 
scarcely a hundred inhabitants, it was not difficult 
to treat them all. Captain Goring, the Court can- 
didate, broached his ale and tossed his cakes. 
Parsons, the second liberal candidate treated for 
himself and Sydney also; meaning, if he saw no 
chance of carrying both seats, to yield in Syd- 
ney's favour at the poll. Both Fagg and Tem- 
ple thought their friend's election sure. 

In this emergency, the Court resorted to the 
vilest arts. Knowing the influence which the name 
of Sydney exercised, Lord Sunderland, whose gen- 
ius now directed every movement at the palace, 
formed the plan of opposing brother to brother 
— arraying one Sydney against another Sydney. 
Sunderland, being Sydney's nephew, was aware of 
the divisions in his family. He knew that Henry 
Sydney, weak by nature, would do anything to 
please the King. Henry had received some proofs 
of royal favour, and had reason given him to 
hope for more. He had been graciously allowed 
to buy Godolphin's place of Master of the Robes 
for six thousand pounds. He had been sent to 
Holland as envoy extraordinary to the Prince of 
Orange. He could not quarrel with Whitehall; 
and so he let his name be put up by his broth- 
er's foes. 

When this design was whispered in the rape of 
Bramber, Penn would not believe it. But he knew 
the danger, should report prove true; for the first 
165 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

effect of it would be to carry the Pelham interest 
to the other side. Penn felt that no time should 
be lost, and urged on Sydney the importance of 
his coming down at once : 

^ Dear Friend, — I am now at Sir John Fagg's, 
where I and my relations dined, I have pressed 
the point with what diligence and force I could ; 
and. to say true, Sir John Fagg has been a most 
zealous, and. he believes, a successful friend to 
thee. But, upon a serious consideration of the 
matter, it is agreed that thou comest down with 
all speed, but that thou takest Hall-Land in thy 
way. and bringest Sir John Pelham with thee. — 
which he ought less to scruple, because his having 
no interest can be no objection to his appearing 
with thee; the commonest civility that can be is 
all desired. The borough has kindled at thy name, 
and takes it well. If Sir John Temple may be 
credited, he assures me it is very likely. He is at 
work daily. Another, one Parsons, treats to-day, 
but for thee as well as himself and mostly makes 
his men for thee, and perhaps will be persuaded, 
if you two carry it not to bequeath his interest 
to thee, and then Captain Goring is thy colleague ; 
and this I wish, both to make the thing easier 
and to prevent offence. Sir John Pelham sent me 
word, he heard that thy brother Henry Sydney 
would be proposed to that borough, or already 
was. and till he was sure of the contrary, it would 
not be decent for him to appear. Of that thou 
canst best inform him. That day you come to 
Bramber. Sir John Fagg will meet you both; and 
that night you may lie at Wiston, and then, when 
thou pleasest, with us at Worminghurst.' 

Penn wrote a second letter to Pelham to pro- 
16G 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

test against the scandal of Henry's name being- 
used in his absence to the prejudice of Algernon ; 
expressing his fears that this ungenerous act 
would lead to greater feuds in the t^ydney family. 
Sunderland moved the wires at will ; and what 
with feasting and drinking — the I'elhams con- 
tributing half a fat buck— the men of Bramber 
were divided at the poll. Henry obtained as 
many votes as his brother. Algernon got the 
casting voice, and was declared duly returned. 
Penn now considered his friend about to take his 
seat, where his counsels and his example might 
be of service to his country. But as soon as the 
Houses met, his return was cancelled by a court 
intrigue. 

This second disappointment made a deep im- 
pression on the mind of Penn. It drove the rage 
of Guildford from his thoughts. That Dalmahoy 
should be willing to take advantage of an honest 
adversary, that a petty official, whom the court 
could make or mar at pleasure, should be ready 
to stain his fame, were things conceivable to him. 
But that a nephew and a brother— members of an 
illustrious house, and men whom he had known 
for years — should serve the purpose of a base 
cabal, to the dishonour of their blood, these things 
were inconceivable to him. If the nearest rela- 
tives of Sydney would not pause at such an act 
of baseness, what was left for virtue but to flee 
away from a corrupt society and court? 



167 



CHAPTER XXI. 

A New Country (1680). 

Turning from the rape of Bramber and the gal- 
lery of Whitehall. Penn looked in mind across the 
ocean. He had made another effort ; he had failed ; 
but though he never sank in hope, he felt that 
there was hardly room in England for a new ex- 
periment in freedom to be made. The people were 
too much divided ; some too rich and some too 
poor; some too learned, some too ignorant; for 
a frame of government in which every man ought 
to be the equal of every other man. On finding 
that a trial could not well be made in England, 
Penn adopted the romantic scheme of giving up 
his fortune and his future life to trying this ex- 
periment in lands beyond the sea. 

In place of the great sums of money due to his 
deceased father — not a penny of which had yet 
been paid — he offered to accept a stretch of des- 
ert, lying backwards towards the unknown west, 
beyond the Delaware. jfThis tract was then a wil- 
derness, with here and there a house of wood and 
thatch, in which some Dutch or Swedish farmer 
lived. To this wild country he proposed to lead 
out a colony of citizens, to seek those fortunes 
and enjoy those liberties in the New World which 
the evil passions of the older world denied them. 
There was poetry and chivalry in such a 
thought. The soldier of Kinsale. with the ad- 
venturous genius of his race, would be in modern 
times a hero of romance. To be a leader of ad- 
venturers was not his highest aim. He wished to 
found in that wilderness a Free Colony for all na- 
168 



A NEW COUNTRY. 

tions— an original and august conception : one to 
keep his name for ever in the memories of man- 
kind. His experiment was to bear witness to the 
world that there is in human nature virtue for 
self-government. In the colony of his brain there 
should be equal laws. The sovereignty— judicial, 
representative, administrative — should be with 
the people. Every office should be filled by men 
elected to their functions, and paid out of the 
public revenue for their services. The state should 
employ the best of servants, and admit no mas- 
ters. There should be no privileged order. In 
Utopia there should be no power, not even his 
own, above the law. Justice should be equally 
administered. To the natives of the soil he would 
offer protection, the useful arts, European com- 
forts, above all the gospel. Love should brood 
over all his projects. Freedom of the conscience 
— equality of political and civil rights — respect for 
personal liberty—and full regard for the rights of 
property : these were the points of his scheme, iy 

The block of country lay to the north of th^ 
Catholic province of Maryland which was owTied 
by Baltimore. For eastern boundary it had the 
state of New Jersey, with the affairs of which 
Penn was now familiar. It had only one outlet 
to the sea ; by means of the river Delaware ; but 
it stretched inland over an undefined country, 
across the Alleghannies to the banks of the'Ohio 
on the west, and to Lake Erie on the north. The 
length of this province was nearly three hundred 
miles ; its width about one hundred and sixty 
miles ; and it contained no less than forty-seven 
thousand square miles of surface; little less than 
the entire area of England. Much of the land 
was hilly, and the hills were green with wood. 
I The Indians hunted elk and deer over its plains. 
' 169 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

danced the war-dance, and smoked the pipe of 
peace beneath the shade of its majestic oaks. ) 
Nature, it is true, had not been prodigal in this 
region; mountain chains covered a large portion 
of its area ; and while the adjoining states of Vir- 
ginia Maryland, and New York, were alive with 
industry, hardly an English settler had as yet 
thought of sitting down in this bleaker clime. 
The winters were severe on the eastern slopes, and 
men supposed they must be colder in the valleys 
on the west. Yet the land was rich in many of 
the best elements of wealth. Between Cape Hen- 
lopen and Cape May, the Delaware offered a basin 
in which the commerce of a great continent would 
have room. The Susquehannah. the Delaware the 
Ohio, the AUeghanny, and a host of rivers either 
watered the interior of the country or washed its 
boundaries. It was rich in mineral treasures. 
Iron was found in a thousand mines ; to the west 
of the Alleghannies lay inexhaustible fields of coal; 
and anthracite beds of the same fossil were found 
in almost every part of the province. Near the 
banks of the Ohio lay concealed a treasury of salt- 
springs. Limestone was abundant ; in the south- 
east there was a quarry of marble not unworthy 
of Italy and Greece. Nor was the whole of the 
province like the slopes of the mountain districts. 
Though the rock lay near the surface, it was cov- 
ered with loam. Sand and alluvial deposits ex- 
isted in the same locality. Brooks and streams 
ran down its valleys, glens, and gorges fertilising 
the soil and breeding myriads of ducks, curlews, 
geese, and other water-fowl. Remarkable for fer- 
tility were the lower flats about the Skuykill and 
the Delaware. Between the head-waters of the Al- 
leghanny and Lake Erie and on both banks of 
the Susquehannah, the soil was rich and capable 
170 



A NEW COUNTRY. 

of culture. When the forest should be felled and 
the surface cleared , wheat, barley, rye, Indian corn, 
hemp. oats, and flax, would take their place. The 
climate had the softness of the south of France ; 
and the purity of the atmo.«phere reminded Penn 
of Languedoc. The forests supplied woods of al- 
most every kind, — cypress, cedar, chestnut, oak, 
and walnut. Poplars were common. Oaks of 
several kinds were found. The pine, the cedar, and 
the wild myrtle filled the air with fragrance ; and 
a slight breeze brought from the heart of bound- 
less woods a stimulating scent. Beasts of prey 
were absent; but the woods abounded in wild 
game, and the venison was superior to anything 
of the kind out of England. Fowls grew to an 
uncommon size; turkeys to forty or fifty pounds 
weight a-piece. Partridges and pigeons made the 
fields vocal with their cries. The rivers yielded 
fish, especially perch and trout, shad and rock, 
roach, smelt, and eels. Oysters, crabs, cockles, 
conch and other shell-fish, were abundant. Fruits 
grew wild about the country— grapes, peaches, 
strawberries, plums, chestnuts, and mulberries ; 
while the eye was charmed with the virgin flow- 
ers of spring and with the forest radiance of the 
fall. 

But these advantages were not all known. Penn 
never suspected he was asking for a kingdom in 
return for a debt of sixteen thousand pounds. He 
had no hope of making money by his province; 
and to his death he never dreamt that it would 
pay him back the money he had spent. For years 
it was a waste. In that age people looked on a 
settlement among the Alleghannies as their de- 
scendants look on a removal into the gorges of the 
Rocky Mountains. Men went thither who could set- 
tle nowhere else. When Gustavus Adolphus came 
171 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

to the throne of Sweden he found nearly the 
whole of the American continent in the possession 
of one or other power; but anxious, as he said, 
' to convert the heathen and to extend his domin- 
ions ; to enrich the treasury and lessen the public 
taxes, ' he sent out colonists from Sweden to take 
possession of the unoccupied country on the Dela- 
ware. This colony was the beginning of a state. 
They found a few Dutch settlers there who had 
at first no friendly feeling towards the new comers. 
But they found that these industrious neighbours 
would be useful to them ; for the Swedes turned 
their attention to farming, while the Hollanders 
preferred to fetch and carry, and to buy and sell. 
They suited each other. With the Swedes went 
out a number of Finns ; and a village was formed 
by them at Wicocoa, now within the suburbs of 
Philadelphia. The Swedes bestowed the name of 
New Suabia on the whole country, and scattered 
themselves far and wide over its surface. They 
had. however, advanced but a little way towards 
the formation of a state when Penn became a 
petitioner to the King. Not a single house had 
been built at Philadelphia— a spot marked out by 
nature as the site of a great city ; for such of the 
Hollanders as fixed their residence at the con- 
fluence of the two rivers were content to harbour 
in the holes and caves. 

\ The red men were a branch of the Lenni Lenape. 
This name, signifying 'the original people." was a 
common term, under which were included all the 
Indian tribes speaking dialects of the \\idely- 
spread Algonquin language. An obscure tradition 
among them pointed to a great migration from 
the west, in ages long ago. They may have been 
the remnants of a conquering race which had sub- 
dued and swept away the civilised people whose 
172 



A NEW COUNTRY. 

monuments still arrest attention in the great 
valley of the Mississippi. The northern regions 
were held by Iroquois— a race of red men famous 
in the history of New York under the name of the 
Six Nations. As compared with whites the tribes 
presented the same general characteristics— they 
were hardy, cunning, cruel, brave. They claimed 
the lordship of the soil as theirs by immemorial 
right. But as they hunted only, the grounds 
were of no use to them except so long as the 
rivers yielded fish and the forests yielded game. 
Men who have no fixed place of residence— no 
altars and no homes— have yet to acquire the 
means whereby a sense of property in the soil 
grows up. The Iroquois and the Lenape built 
no cities — permanently kept no fields. Wherever 
the woods afforded sport the lodge was pitched. 
The men tightened their bows and sharpened 
their hatchets ; the women planted a rood or 
two of maize; and when the forest spoils and 
field produce were got in, they marched to more 
attractive spots. Their sachem was an hereditary 
ruler; but the order of succession was by the 
female line. The children of the reigning sachem 
could not succeed him in his regal office, but the 
next son of his mother, after whom came in the 
sister's eldest son. 

Such was the country which Penn petitioned the 
King to grant him in lieu of his claim. I ^ 

A year was wasted in debates. The loyalists 
lost all patience when they heard that Penn was 
asking for a grant of land, to put in practice cer- 
tain theories held to be Utopian by wise and 
moderate politicians and denounced by courtier 
and cavalier as dangerous to the Crown and State. 
Events had slackened his hold on James. Penn 
had publicly expressed his belief in the Popish 
173 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

plot ; he had influenced his friends openly to sup- 
port Sydney; he had himself become a leader 
among the Republicans. He had committed a still 
greater offence in the eyes of James— he had stood 
between that prince and his prey. As lord-pro- 
prietor of the whole province >f New Netherlands, 
James had claimed the right to levy an import 
and export tax upon all articles entering or leav- 
ing its ports. So long as James retained the land 
as well as the seignorial right, this claim was not 
disputed ; consequently traders carrying goods to 
or from New Jersey paid to his agents a duty of 
ten per cent. When Billing got the land, this tax 
was felt to be a wrong ; the colonists invited Penn 
to act for them; and, having considered the jus- 
tice of their case, Penn proceeded against his royal 
guardian in the law courts. Sir William Jones de- 
cided the case in favour of Penn and the colonists ; 
the Duke at once submitted ; but it is impossible 
to believe that he would not feel sore at his defeat. 
To the coldness of the prince was added the active 
hostility of Lord Baltimore, whose ill-defined pos- 
sessions were supposed to be invaded by the new 
boundary-line. Baltimore was one of those who 
stood in Gates' black list; he was not in the 
country ; but he had friends at court, who watched 
his interests; and Penn's petition was no sooner 
laid before the council, than a copy of it was 
sent to his agent, Burke, who took such meas- 
ures as he thought most likely to defeat it. All 
the dilatory forms of the Royal Council were used ; 
the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations 
wrote long letters about trifles to the Attorney- 
general, and the Attorney-general wrote with sim- 
ilar tact to the Lords Commissioners. Penn's time 
and hopes were wasting. Sunderland was an ac- 
tive friend; and Hyde. Chief Justice North, and 
174 



A NEW COUNTRY. 

the Earl of Halifax, were also on his side. These 
prudent friends advised him to be silent as 
to his Free Colony until his patent had been 
signed. The name of Freedom was offensive at 
Whitehall. 



175 



CHAPTER XXII. 
Pennsylvania (1680-81). 

At first, the Duke of York was not in favour of 
the grant ; and the Attorney-general, Sir Joseph 
Warden, was instructed to oppose it in his name. 
James thought the boundary line too loose, the 
rights of seigniory too large. But Sunderland 
kept the King's attention fixed on the alternative 
mode of paying off the score. A peerage and a 
sum of sixteen thousand pounds were due. If 
Penn were willing to accept a lordship on the Del- 
aware in lieu of a barony on the Wey, a patch of 
waste woodland in lieu of sixteen thousand pounds 
in money, Sunderland thought the King would 
make a very good bargain for the crown. Sir 
Thomas Thynne was hankering after Weymouth ; 
the royal treasury was empty ; and the King could 
hardly make another man Viscount Weymouth 
while the Admiral's dues were still unpaid. 

This argument in favour of the grant decided 
Charles. Had there been money in the coffers, 
Penn would not have gained his prayer, and 
Pennsylvania would have been reclaimed and 
planted by another race of men. Five months 
after Penn's petition was sent in. Sir Joseph wrote 
to inform Secretary Blathwayte that the Duke of 
York consented to Penn's request. What now re- 
mained, was the arrangement of details. But this 
task occupied a second five months. The chief 
questions which came up for discussion had refer- 
ence to boundaries and constitutions. Agents of 
the Duke of York were heard by the Privy Coun- 
176 



PENxNSYLVANIA. 

cil ; Burke appeared for Lord Baltimore ; and both 
parties laid do^Ti objections to the boundary-line 
as drawn by Penn. Penn's counsel made the best 
of their position ; their client being anxious to ob- 
tain a well-marked line ; but the parties could not 
come to terms. At length, the grant was made 
by the Council with no proper understanding of 
the question, in a vain hope that the proprietors 
would be able to arrange their differences among 
themselves. This omission led to much dispute in 
after-times. The terms of the charter then came 
on. Penn had forgotten some of our less liberal 
laws and usages; but the Attorney-general and 
the Lord Chief Justice remedied his defects by ad- 
ding clauses to the charter. They reserved all 
royal privileges. They provided for the authority 
of Parliament in questions of trade and com- 
merce. Acts of the colonial legislature were to be 
submitted to the King. Above all. they reserved 
to the mother country the right to levy rates. 
The Bishop of London got a clause inserted claim- 
ing security for the English Church. 

All these preliminaries being arranged, the Lords 
of Trade and Plantations submitted the draft of 
a charter constituting Penn proprietor of his great 
estates. On Thursday, February 24, 1681, 
Charles set his signature to the document, too 
happy to cancel a very large and troublesome debt. 

A council was called for Saturday, the 5th of 
March at Whitehall, which Penn was summoned 
to attend. The name which Penn had fixed on 
for his province was New Wales; but Secretary 
Blathwayte. a Welshman, objected to have the 
Quaker country called after his native land. Penn 
proposed Sylvania. on account of the magnifi- 
cent forests. Penn means great and high ; and 
Charles, who loved a word of double meaning, 
12 177 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

added Penn to Sylvania ; partly as a compliment 
to his old admiral, and partly as descriptive of 
the country. Penn being fearful lest it would ap- 
pear in him a piece of vanity to allow a princi- 
pality to be called by his name appealed to the 
King- and offered twenty guineas to the Secretary, 
to have it changed. Had he appealed to Blath- 
wayte and bribed the King he might have had his 
wish. Put Charles took upon himself the name; 
and the patent was then issuer in the usual form. 

The document itself is in the oflBce of the Secre- 
tary of Pennsylvania; it is written on rolls of 
strong parchment, in the old English handwrit- 
ing each line underscored with red ink ; the bor- 
ders are emblazoned with devices, and the top of 
the first sheet exhibits a portrait of King Charles. 
It briefly sets forth the nature and reasons of the 
grant, and loosely describes the boundaries of the 
province. This document not yet two centuries 
old. is regarded in America with veneration. 
I Four weeks after Charles had signed his patent. 
Penn sent ou his cousin. Colonel William Mark- 
ham, with his orders to take possession of the 
country, to inform the natives of his coming over, 
and assure them of his friendly feeling j|q select a 
piece of land near Trenton Falls on which to build 
a house, and settle with Lord Baltimore the ques- 
tion of their frontier lines. 

The grant of his petition was a great event for 
Penn. Penn knew the grandeur and the purity of 
his design. If Sydney felt that the cause of free- 
dom was at issue, Penn believed that the experi- 
ment involved no less than the cause of human 
nature and of God. While waiting the turns of his 
negotiations he saw how one false step, one rash 
word, one imprudent concession, might put the 
whole of his great scheme in peril. When the char- 
178 



PENNSYLVANIA. 

ter was issued he exclaimed, 'God hath given it 
to me in the face of the world. ... He will bless 
and make it the seed of a nation.' 

In this spirit he commenced his labours as a 
legislator. Warned by the failure of the constitu- 
tion drawn uj) by Locke and Shaftsbury for Caro- 
lina which their friends had declared would last 
for ever,— Penn resolved, at Sydney's instance, to 
secure a democratic basis for his scheme, and then 
allow the details to fall in with time. He there- 
fore drew a frame of government, the preamble of 
which — like the declaration of rights and principle 
prefixed to modern constitutions — contained his 
leading ideas on the nature, origin, and ob- 
ject of government. His sentiments, as exhibited 
in this document, are liberal, wise, and noble. He 
begins by expressing his conviction that govern- 
ment is of divine origin : and bears the same sort 
of relation to the outer that religion does to the 
inner man. An outward law. he says, is needed in 
the world because men will not obey the inward 
light; in the words of an Apostle. 'The law was 
added on account of sin.' They err, he says who 
fancy that government has only to coerce the 
evil-doers; it has also to encourage the well-dis- 
posed, to shield virtue, to reward merit, to foster 
art, to promote learning. As to models of govern- 
ment, he says little. Vice will vitiate every form ; 
and while men side with their passions against 
their reason, neither monarchy nor democracy can 
preserve them from corruption. Governments 
depend more on men than men on governments. 
If men are vnse and virtuous, the governments un- 
der which they must live also become wise and 
virtuous ; it is therefore essential to the stability 
of a state that the people be educated in noble 
thoughts and virtuous deeds. A people making 
179 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

their own laws and obeying them faithfully, will 
be a free people, while those laws exist, whatever be 
the nnine of the constitution under which they live. 

The counsels of Halifax and Sunderland were not 
lost. Without using terms which would have 
roused the jealousy of Whitehall. Penn contrived 
to express the chief of his ideas in a clear and 
practical shape. He concludes his preface by say- 
ing that ' in reverence to God and good conscience 
towards men,' he has formed his scheme of gov- 
ernment so as ' to support power in reverence with 
the people, and to secure the people from the 
abuse of power, that they may be free by their 
just obedience, and the magistrates honourable for 
their just administration.' 

The constitution, a rough draft only, followed. 
It had been drawn up with care by Penn and Syd- 
ney. Sydney went down to Worminghurst for the 
purpose; and there the two lawgivers drew up 
the first outlines. Every phrase employed was 
tested by the most advanced theories of democ- 
racy and by the practice of ancient and modern 
nations. Penn changed his terms whenever Syd- 
ney expressed a doubt. When the first rudiments 
were moulded into shape Sydney carried the pa- 
pers home with him to Penshurst, to consider and 
re-consider the various clauses ; when his mind was 
fully satisfied as to their form and substance he 
brought them backo So intricate, so continuous, 
was this mutual aid, that it is now impossible to 
separate the work of one legislator from that of 
the other— Penn' s share from Sydney's— Sydney's 
share from Penn's. 

The constitution begins by declaring that the 
sovereign power resides in the governor and free- 
men of the province. For purposes of legislation, 
two bodies are to be elected by the people— a 
180 



PENNSYLVANIA. 

Council and an Assembly. The proprietor, or his 
deputy, is to preside at the council, and to have 
three votes. These votes are the only power which 
he reserves to himself or to his agents. The func- 
tions of the council are to prepare and propose 
bills — to see the laws duly executed — to watch over 
the peace and safety of the province — to determine 
the sites of new towns and cities — to build ports, 
harbours, and markets — to make and repair roads 
— to inspect the public treasury — to erect courts 
of justice institute primary schools, and reward 
the authors of useful inventions and discoveries. 
This body, consisting of seventy-two persons, is 
to be chosen by universal suffrage for three years ; 
twenty-four of them retiring every year, whose 
places are to be supplied by new elections. The 
members of the assembly are to be elected annu- 
ally. The votes are to be taken by ballot; the 
members are to be paid ; and the suffrage is to be 
universal. There are no property qualifications, 
and the whole country is to be divided into sec- 
tions. The assembly has no deliberative power. 
All acts of the council are to be laid before it for 
approval or rejection. It has the privilege of mak- 
ing out a list of persons to be named as justices 
and sheriffs of which list the governor is bound to 
select one half. 

To this outline of a constitution are added forty 
provisional laws relating to liberty of conscience, 
to choice of civil officers, to provision for the 
poor, to processes at law, to fines, arrests, and 
other matters of a civil nature. These provisional 
laws are to be in force until the council has been 
properly elected, when they are to be either ac- 
cepted, amended, or rejected as the popular rep- 
resentatives think proper; Penn agreeing with 
Sydney, that no men can know what laws are 
181 



LIFE OF WILLIAM FEXX. 

needful so well as those whose lives, properties, 
and liberties are concerned. On this point the con- 
stitutions of Pennsylvania and Delaware and 
after them the constitution of the United States, 
owe an eternal obligation to Sydney. Penn like 
More like Harrington and the writers on Utopian 
schemes, desired to have a fixed system of public 
law. He would have drawn his constitutions and 
offered them to the world as the conditions of set- 
tlement in his new colony, Shaftsbury and Balti- 
more had adopted such a mode. With ruling in- 
stinct. Sydney saw that a democracy is incompati- 
ble with a foreign body of constitutional law. He 
proposed, therefore, to leave this question open. 
Having fixed the great boundary-lines of the sys- 
tem — secured freedom of thought (always Penn's 
first care) . sacredness of person and property, 
popular control over all the powers of the state, 
financial, civil, jiroprietorial. and judicial — the 
lawgivers left the new democracy to develope itself 
in accordance with its natural wants. America 
owes much to Sydney. 

An outline of the new political system being 
drawn up. Penn began to organise. The elements 
were prepared. So soon as it was whispered that 
the champion of trial by jury had become the 
ovsTier and governor of a province in the New 
World, and that he proi)osed to settle it on the 
broadest principles of i)Oi)ular right, from nearly 
every large town in the three kingdoms and from 
many cities of the Rhine and Holland agents 
were despatched to treat with the new lord for 
lands. Societies were formed for emigration. A 
German company started up at Frankfort. Franz 
Pastorius came to London, where he bought 
fifteen thousand acres lying in one tract on a 
navigable river, and three thousand acres within 
182 



PENNSYLVANIA. 

the liberties of the new city. Liverpool furnished 
many purchasers and settlers, London more. At 
Bristol a company was organised under the name 
of Free Society of Traders in Pennsylvania; and 
in the autumn Penn rode down to that city to 
confer with Moore. Ford. Claypole and other ad- 
venturers on their plans. Penn was anxious to 
encourage skilful manufacturers of wool to mi- 
grate from the neighbourhood of Bristol and the 
valley of Stroud ; for in the early stage of his 
experiment these were the staples on which he 
based his expectations of success. Desiring free- 
dom for trade as well as freedom for the person. 
he resisted every temptation to reserve to himself 
profitable monopolies, just as in his constitutions 
he had refused to retain official patronage. A few 
weeks after the charter was issued, Thurston and 
Maryland gent an agent to offer him a fee of 
6.000/. and 2% per cent, as rental, if he would 
allow a company to be formed with an exclusive 
right to trade in beaver-skins between the Dela- 
ware and Susquehannah rivers. Other proprietors 
granted such monopolies; Penn's right to grant 
them was unquet^tionable; but he felt that such 
monopolies were unjust, and he refused the money 
and the yearly rent. A Free Society of Traders 
realised <me of his o\nti ideas, and he afforded the 
Bristol company great facilities. Nicolas Moore, 
a lawyer, was appointed chairman of this com- 
pany. Having bought twenty thousand acres of 
land, they published articles of trade, and com- 
menced preparations for the voyage. Some per- 
sons from the principality joined the Bristol 
colonists, and zeal being backed by money, things 
were soon so far advanced that a vet-sel filled with 
emigrants, and taking out the chairman. Nicolas 
Moore, was ready to ^et rail. 
183 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Clearing Grouxd (1081-82). 

Philip Ford, a Bristol Quaker and a leading 
member of the Free Society of Traders gained 
the confidence of Penn and was appointed as his 
agent in the western port. This Ford was one of 
those sedate and sallow rogues who made a busi- 
ness of religion and was lashed by every wTiter 
for the comic stage. He had the face of Cantwell 
and the hand of Overreach, Penn saw that he 
was quick and ceremonious, and fancied he was 
honest and sincere. For many years he was the 
agent through whose hands receipts and payments 
on the largest scale were made, but many years 
elapsed before the family of Penn became aware 
how much of what was properly their own stuck 
fast to Ford. 

I When Markham landed on the Delaware he made 
known a letter from Penn to the people of Penn- 
sylvania under date of April 8. 1681 announcing 
the issue of his patent, and explaining the spirit 
in which he should proceed to plant a free state 
in that country. Then he called the Indian 
sachems into council and surprised the redskins 
by inquiring whether they would sell a piece of 
land near the Trenton Falls to the new lord ; and 
if so, what would be their price? The new lord, 
whom the great King had set to rule and own 
the country was. he said a just man who would 
neither do them wrong himself nor suffer any of 
Bons to do them wrong. He meant to live with 
184 



CLEAKJXG (J HOUND. 

them ill love ; to buy their lands if he .should want 
it ; and to trade with them in open market, as 
a white man bought and sold with white men. In 
July the terms of sale were fixed ; in August they 
were signed by Markham on behalf of Penn and by 
the various sachems who had claims on the estate; /"sC 
and Colonel Markham set about to clear the 
woods and stake the buildings of the homestead 
afterwards known as Pennsbury Manor. Markham 
had less success with Baltimoie than with the 
Indians; but his opening moves in that game 
of chance and skill — the boundary question — left a 
deep impression of his tact. He was in truth too 
able and too worldly in such things to be a fit- 
ting deputy for an idealist like Penn. 
J While Markham was buying Pennsbury Manor 
from the sachems, Penn was putting out in Lon- 
don articles of concession for intending colonists. 
In these concessions he described the country and 
the constitution, and he dwelt with vigour on the 
line of conduct he intended to pursue towards 
natives of the soil. From Cortez and Pizarro 
do^^^lwards. Europeans in America had treated the 
aborigines as property. Not content with robbing 
them of their lands, their lakes, their hunting- 
grounds, their ornaments of pearl and gold, the 
pale-faces from Seville and Cartagena had i-eized 
their persons and compelled them, under terror of 
the rod , to toil and die. When some of the bolder 
spirits among thes-e natives fled from the faces of 
their tyrants, they were hunted down like w'olves, 
and either worried by blood-hounds or &ent to 
painful death in the mines. Even Puritan settlers, 
flying from an unjust rule at home, had been at 
war with natives of the soil, and more than one 
scene of treachery stains the page of New England 
history. Penn, strong in his belief in human good- 
185 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

ness. would not arm his followers even for their 
own defence. In his province the sword should 
cease to be the symbol of authority; no soldier 
and no cannon should be seen; he would rely on 
justice and on courtesy to win the confidence of 
those whom it had hitherto been the vice of his 
countrymen to treat as foes. | l(k» 

In the autumn two vessels, called the Amity 
and the John S<jr;ilj, sailed from the Thames, and 
a third vessel, called the Bristol Factor from the 
Avon. Penn had now completed his scheme with 
regard to the Indians, and by the John Snrnh he 
sent out three commissioners, William Crispin. 
John Bezar, and Nathaniel Allen, with written in- 
structions to buy land from them in his name, to 
arrange a regular course of trade, and enter into 
treaties of peace and friendship. At sea the two 
vessels from the Thames parted company. The 
Amity wa,s driven by storms among the West In- 
dian islands, and did not reach the Delaware till 
the following spring. The John Surah was the 
first to make land ; but the Bristol Factor soon 
afterwards appeared in the river. As they slowly 
cut the stream, the passengers observed some cot- 
tages on the right bank, forming the Swedish vil- 
lage of Upland, and it being nearly dark, with a 
long winter night before them in an unknown 
river, they thought it best to pull up. While the 
adventurers were enjoying themselves in their 
own fashion on shore, a sudden frost set in, and 
next morning they found to their alarm that the 
vessel was locked in ice. The hospitable Swedes 
offered them such protection as their scanty home- 
steads yielded ; such as could not obtain the shel- 
ter of a roof dug holes in the ground or piled up 
earthen huts ; and here at last they determined to 
wait patiently for the coming spring. Many of 
186 



CLEARING GROUND. 

these accidental settlers in Upland were still there 
when Penn arrived next year. 

Meanwhile the friends of the Holy Experiment 
were busy in England and on the Continent, The 
Lords of Plantations had left several sources 
of uncertainty in the grant. The quarrel with 
Baltimore seemed to threaten angry and expen- 
sive litigation ; for between the Catholic lord and 
the Quaker lord irreconcilable views as to the 
nature and aims of government came in to 
embitter the dispute. Colonel Markham held con- 
ference after conference with Baltimore, but with- 
out result. Each appealed to his political friends 
in England, where the King himself took part \\ath 
Penn and felt sufficient interest in the matter to 
write more than one letter to Lord Baltimore 
about the boundary lines. Some claims advanced 
on behalf of the Duke of York were hardly less 
important to the settlers. James had not con- 
sented to forego his seignorial rights over the 
province. Penn considered it essential to his plans 
that no hostile power should ever be able to shut 
his people out from commerce \^nth the world— an 
event clearly possible if the mouth of the Delaware 
was to be held by an enemy. To prevent an evil 
of so much magnitude to the future state. Penn 
obtained from His Royal Highness a grant of the 
strip of land fronting the Delaware from Coaquan- 
noc to Cape Henlopen then called the Territories, 
now forming the State of Delaware. Some months 
elapsed before these great affairs could be ar- 
ranged with the Duke's agents ; but on Wednesday, 
the 24th of August, two drafts of conveyance 
were sent by his Royal Highness to the Board of 
Trade, in which he formally made over all his 
rights and titles in these estates to Penn and his 
heirs for ever. These important concessions re- 
187 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENX. 

lieved the new proprietor from every immediate 
fear; and Penn was now become the lord para- 
mount of territories almost as large as England. 
James behaved to him in all these matters like 
an honest guardian and a faithful friend. 

Excited by his happy fortunes. Penn pushed on 
his preparations for the voyage with zeal. William 
Bradford, a printer of Leicester, agreed to go out 
with his presses. Wallis. the famous mathemati- 
cian, suggested how much Penn might do to ex- 
tend the domain of science. Statesmen were at 
fault as to the geography of America ; its natural 
history was hardly better known to scholars. 
Penn agreed to make and transmit to England 
observations on points of scientific interest; and 
the Pioyal Society, then recently founded, elected 
him a member. 

Lady Penn, the merry romp and loving mother, 
died while he was hurrying on these preparations 
for his voyage. She was affectionate to her son, 
without understanding his principles or altogether 
approving his conduct. Her removal was a blow 
to him; his sister. Margaret Lowi:her, being the 
only one now left to him of his father's blood. 
For many days he was unable to bear the light ; 
and weeks elapsed before the usual calm returned 
to his heart — the habitual activity to his brain. 

The Welcome, which was to take him out to 
America, was already in the Downs. Compared 
with many other ships then navigating the At- 
lantic, the Welcome, carrying three hundred tons 
burden, was a stately bark. On deck a hundred 
pale and anxious faces gathered ; it was getting 
deep into the autumn and a winter voyage was 
then regarded with alarm. The men were well-to- 
do, and many of them had been used from their 
birth to all the comforts of life. As yet the Gov- 
1S8 



C LE ARI XG GROUND. 

ernor was on t^hore; but his servants his furni- 
ture, his wine, his guns, his horses, his provis- 
ions, his wardrobe, his carved doors and window- 
frames, and the whole interior decoration of the 
liouse at Pennsbury Manor, were on board. 

The voyage might last from eix to fourteen 
weeks according to the wind and weather, and 
every man had to be provisioned for the longer 
term. It is not to be supposed that Friends go- 
ing out to found a free state denied themselves 
the consolations of meat and drink. A list of the 
comforts put on board one vessel leaving the Del- 
aware for London on behalf of a Quaker preacher, 
gives us — 32 fowls. 7 turkeys, 11 ducks, 2 hams, 
a barrel of china oranges a large keg of sweet- 
meats, a keg of rum. a pot of tamarinds, a box 
of spices, ditto of dried herbs. 18 cocoa-nuts, a 
box of eggs, six balls of chocolate, six dried cod- 
fish and five shaddock, six bottles oi citron-water, 
four bottles of madeira, five dozen of good ale, 
one large keg of wine and nine pints of brandy. 
There was also much solid food in the shape of 
flour, sheep, and hogs. Imagine a hundred emi- 
grants so furnixhed; the grunting of hogs the 
screaming of fov, Is the bah-ing of sheep, the gab- 
bling of ducks, the litter of bags and boxes the 
breaking of bottles, the rolling of barrels, the 
shouts of the sailors, the anxious faces of men 
and women about to try a new world imagine 
this, and the reader has a picture of the Welcome 
as she lay off Deal on the first day of Septem- 
ber. 1682. waiting the arrival of Governor Penn. 

Everything being arranged as to the public du- 
ties of his mis^ion, the Coloniser gave up hs last 
thoughts in England to Guli and his family. To 
Springett had been given a brother \Mlliam. and 
a sister Lettie. In an age of 'ferries' it is not 
189 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

easy to conceive the feelings of a man who was 
about to make the voyage to America. Half a 
century later a Yorkshire squire conceived it nec- 
essary to make his will before starting on a trip 
to London ; still more needful were such prepara- 
tions thought when a man proposed to cross the 
Atlantic. Penn had wished to take his family out 
with him ; for it was his wish to settle in the 
country now become hi? o;\'n; but information as 
to perils and privations to be encountered by the 
first settlers, consideration for Guli's health, then 
delicate, and for the education of his children, 
caused him to abandon this idea. Yet he was not 
happy. Death had snatched away two of those 
experienced persons in whose care he could have 
left them : Isaac Pennington and Lady Penn. The 
grandmother of his little children was at hand. 
On Lady Springett Thomas Ellwood. and other 
attached and faithful friends, he felt he could rely ; 
and yet, wdth all these solaces it was a bitter 
thing to part from his family for months — for 
years— and it might easily be for ever; to en- 
counter dangers in unaccustomed shapes, storms 
at sea, tropical fevers, hardships in the wilderness ; 
nay, more— as, in the faith of an expounder of 
new doctrines — he was about to place himself, un- 
armed in the power of savages, too much accus- 
tomed to the tomahawk and scalping-knife— and 
though a strong believer in the native virtues of 
the Redskins, when these savages were treated 
well —he could not help feeling that before he 
might have time to impress their minds \\itli con- 
fidence in his integrity of purpose, some mischance 
might lead him into peril of his life. 

He had made his arrangements as if he were 
never to return. His hope was to prepare a home 
for those whom he was now about to leave behind; 
190 



CLEARING GROUND. 

but being doubtful whether Providence had not 
designed this leave to be his final one, he wrote 
at length his parting admonitions to his wife and 
children. This testament is full of wise and noble 
counsels, earnestly conceived and tenderly con- 
veyed. Foreseeing that his Holy Experiment 
might be a drain on hii^ private means, he wishes 
Guli to be economical, though not parsimonious, 
in her household. She is to make one great ex- 
ception, however ; in the education of his children 
she is not to spare. He means the education to 
be useful and practical. Springett and William 
are to acquire a sound knowledge of building, 
si i ;-carpentry. measuiing, levelling surveying, 
and navigation ; but he desires that their chief at- 
tention shall be given to agriculture. Lettie is to 
pay attention to the afiairs of a household as 
well as to the accomplishments of her sex : ' Let 
my children be husbandmen and housewifes.' In 
his parting moments he did not forget that his 
little children might become the rulers of his prov- 
ince — and his wishes on this subject were re- 
corded for their guidance. ' As for you.' he writes, 
'who are likely to be concerned in the govern- 
n.ent of Pennsylvania. 1 do charge you before the 
Lord God and His holy angels that you be lowly, 
diligent, and tender, fearing God. loving the peo- 
ple and hating covetousness. Let justice have 
its impartial course, and the law free passage. 
Though to your loss, i)rotect no man against it; 
for you are not above the law. but the law above 
you. Live therefore the lives yourselves you would 
have the people live, and then you will have right 
and boldness to punish the transgressor. Keep 
upon the square, for God sees you : therefore do 
your duty, and be sure you see with your own 
eyes, and hear with your own ears. Entertain no 
191 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

lurchers, cherish no informers for gain or revenge; 
use no tricks; fly to no devices to support or 
cover injustice ; but let your hearts be upright be- 
fore the Lord, trusting in Him above the con- 
trivances of men, and none shall be able to hurt 
or supplant you.' 

On the first of September the Welcome weighed 
anchor at Deal, passed the Foreland with a light 
breeze. At Deal they shipped a case of small-pox. 
At first the disease was mild, and they went on; 
but before they reached the middle of the Atlantic 
nearly every man, woman, and child, was sick. 
During two weeks some one died almost every 
day. Of the hundred passengers on board, more 
than thirty fell. Care, attention, and the Govern- 
or's stores, were given without stint. By day and 
night Penn sat in the cabins of the infected per- 
sons, speaking words of comfort to all, giving 
medicines to such as needed them, and affording 
the consolations of religion to the dying. In his 
labours he was much assisted by his friend Pear- 
son, an emigrant from Chester. Want of room and 
want of fresh provisions were the two chief evils 
which he could not meet. One boy was born at 
sea; but many boys and girls, as well as grown- 
up people died. The voyage was rather long, and 
it was deep in October when the low and wooded 
banks of the Delaware broke on the straining- 
sights of men still struggling with the mortal 
fear of death. 

October 27, 1682, just nine weeks after quit- 
ting Deal the Welronie moored off the port of 
Newcastle in Delaware the country lately given 
up to him by the Duke of York. 



192 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Ix THE Wilderness (1682). 

I Penn's landing made a general holiday in the 
to\\Ti; for young and old, Dutch, English Swedes, 
and Germans, crowded to the landing-place, each 
eager to catch a glimpse of the man who was said 
to come amongst them, less as their lord and 
governor than as their friend. 

Next day he called the people together in the 
Dutch court-house, when he went through the legal 
forms of taking possession. Deeds were produced 
and charters read. The agents of the Duke of 
York surrendered the territory in their master's 
name by the usual form of giving earth and water. 
Penn's great powers being legally established he 
addressed the people in profoundest silence. He 
spoke of the reasons for his coming— the great 
idea which he had nursed from his youth up- 
wards — his desire to found a free and virtuous 
state in which the people should rule themselves. 
He then explained the nature of his powers ; as- 
suring those who heard him that he wished to 
exercise them only provisionally and for the gen- 
eral goodliTIe spoke of the constitution he had 
published for Pennsylvania as containing his 
theory of government ; and promised the settlers 
on the lower reaches of the Delaware that the 
same principles should be adopted in their terri- 
tory. Every man in his provinces, he said should 
enjoy liberty of conscience and his share of polit- 
ical power. As earnest of his intention to pro- 
ceed on fixed and just principles in the colony, he 
l;i 198 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

ended by renewing in his own name the commis- 
sions of all existing magistrates. 

The people listened to this speech with wonder 
and delight. They were but simple husbandmen 
— soft words were not among the things on which 
they set much store; but that old northern in- 
stinct which had led them from the Rhine the 
Elbe and Zuyder Zee in search of freedom on the 
shores of the Delaware told them that the land- 
ing of this English Governor was an era in their 
lives. They had but one request to make in an- 
swer ; that he would stay amongst them and reign 
over them in person. They besought him to 
annex their territory to Pennsylvania, in order 
that the white settlers might have one country, 
one parliament, and one ruler. He promised at 
their desire, to take the question of a union of the 
two provinces into consideration and submit it 
to an assembly then about to meet at Upland. 
So he took his leave. 

Ascending the Delaware, enjoying the beauty 
of nature as every bend in the river brought some 
charm to sight and breathing the mild air of that 
southern climate the adventurers soon arrived at 
the Swedish town of Upland, then the place of 
chief importance in the province. Penn was re- 
ceived and lodged in the house of Wade. The spot 
where he stepped on shore is still shown to stran- 
gers with a patriotic pride. Wishing to mark the 
fact by some striking circumstance he turned 
round to his companion Pearson, a man equally 
eminent for his free spirit and his humane virtues, 
and observed, 'Providence has brought us safely 
here ; thou hast been the companion of my toils ; 
what wilt thou that I should call this place?" 
After a moment's thought Pearson, whose mod- 
esty would not allow him to propose his own 
11)4 



IN THE WILDERNESS. 

name, answered, 'Chester; in remembrance of the 
city whence I came.' So Penn changed the name 
from Upland to Chester, and as Chester it is 
known. 

Markham and the three commissioners had done 
their work so well that in a short time after 
Penn's arrival the first General Assembly, elected 
by universal suffrage, was ready to meet. The 
Friends' Meeting-house a plain brick edifice front- 
ing the creek and opposite to Wade's house, where 
Penn remained a guest was selected for the pur- 
pose. Nicolas Moore an English lawyer, and al- 
ready chairman to the Free Society of Traders, 
was elected speaker; and as soon as Penn had 
given them assurances similar to those which he 
had made in Newcastle, they proceeded to dis- 
cuss, amend and accept the Frame of Government 
and the Provisional Laws. The settlers on the 
Delaware sent representatives to this Assembly, 
and one of their first acts was to declare the two 
provinces united. The constitution was adopted 
without important alteration ; and to the forty 
laws were added twenty-one others, and the infant 
code was passed in form. 

The new laws only regulated the practical work- 
ing of ideas and principles embodied in the frame 
of government ; the chief of them providing— that 
every man should be free to believe in any doc- 
trine whatever not destructive of the peace and 
honour of civil society ; that every Christian man 
of twenty-one years, unstained by crime should 
be eligible to elect and be elected a member of the 
Colonial Parliament; that every child of twelve, 
whether rich or poor, should be instructed in some \ 
useful trade or skill all work being honourable in ' 
a democratic state, all idleness a shame ; that fees 
of law should be fixed at a low rate, and hung up 
195 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

in every court of justice ; that persons wrongly im- 
prisoned should have double damages from the 
prosecutor ; that prisons should be changed from 
nurseries of vice, idleness, and misery, into houses 
of industry, honesty and education. These legis- 
lators adopted the humane views of their Gover- 
nor even where they -seemed to be least supported 
by tradition and experience. The English penal 
laws were much at variance \\ith Penn's ideas; and 
at one bold stroke he blotted out the whole cata- 
logue of crimes punished with death excepting 
only two — the crimes of murder and treason. The 
Assembly passed a law embodying this humane 
and enlightened policy, and also a general act of 
naturalisation for aliens. There was little talk, 
much work in this first parliament. On the third 
day the session was completed, and Penn pro- 
rogued the members. They had left their ploughs 
for half a week ; they had met together and made 
a State. 

No reader needs to be reminded how the moral 
sentiment and state policy of Europe and America 
have followed in the wake of these ideas. Tolera- 
tion was in Penn's day but the creed of those who 
doubted everything ; religious men of almost every 
shade denied it as a suggestion of the evil spirit. 
Locke could ask for charity towards error, as he 
found no certitude in truth ; but earnest Chris- 
tians holding God's Word to be infallible could 
show no mercy to the unbeliever. Governor Brad- 
ford one of the noblest of the Pilgrim Fathers 
had denounced the folly of toleration as tending 
to misrule. Endicott had on one occasion said to 
his prisoner— Renounce your religion or die. Presi- 
dent Oakes had looked on toleration as the first 
born of all abominations. These were statesmen, 
but the clergy had been no less hot against opin- 
196 



IN THE WILDEKNESS. 

ion. It is doing the religious martyrs of the New 
World no WTong to say that the cruelties exercised 
by them on men who differed in opinion were 
worthy of the best days of the Star Chamber and 
the Court of Inquisition. Penn was equally be- 
fore his sect and country. It remained for How- 
ard Eden, and Romilly, more than a century 
after that Colonial Assembly met in Chester, to 
introduce Penn's principles into the administration 
of our prisons and the reformation of our penal 
code. 

Penn paid some visits to the neighbouring seats 
of government in New York, Maryland, and the 
Jerseys. At West River, Lord Baltimore came 
forth to meet him with a retinue of the chief per- 
sons in the province. Colonel Tailler offered the 
hospitalities of his mansion in the Ridge, Anne 
Arundel county, to these visitors, and they held 
a long and spirited conference. It was impossible 
to adjust the boundary, and the two proprietors 
separated with the resolution to maintain their 
several rights. Penn had eent out a surveyor, 
Thomas Holme, some months before he himself 
left England ; and this able servant, assisted 
by Markham and the commissioners, had already 
held interviews with the Indian sachems, made ex- 
tensive purchases of land, and acquired so much 
knowledge of the interior as to enable him to 
divide the whole province into counties. The lands 
already bought from the Red men were now put 
up for sale at four-pence an acre with a reserve 
of one shilling for every hundred acres as quit- 
rent ; the latter sum intended to form a state rev- 
enue for the Governor's support. In marking out 
the various districts Penn set apart equal lots for 
each of his three children. Two manors of ten 
thousand acres each he reserved as a present for 
197 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

the Duke of York. Amidst these sales and settle- 
ments he recollected George Fox, for whose use and 
profit he set aside a thousand acres of the best 
land in the province free of all claims for quit- 
rent, costs of transfer, and even of title-deeds. 
I Penn was no less careful for the Redskins. Lay- 
ing on one side all ceremonial manners he won 
their hearts by his easy confidence and familiar 
speech. He walked with them alone into the for- 
ests. He sat with them on the ground to watch 
the young men dance. He joined in their feasts, 
and ate their roasted hominy and acorns. When 
they expressed delight at seeing the great Onas 
(native name for Penn) imitate their national 
customs, not to be outdone in any of those feats 
of prowess which the Red men value Penn. in 
whom the swordsman of Paris and the volunteer 
of Carrickfergus were not lost leapt up from his 
seat, entered the lists and beat them all ; on see- 
ing which the younger warriors could hardly con- 
trol the extravagance of their joy. 

Markhamhad already made his purchase of land, 
and entered with the natives into a treaty of peace 
and amity. When he had explained to them the 
beneficent intentions of the great man who was 
coming to live and trade with them ; when he had 
told them that although the King had granted 
him the whole country from the Cape of Henlopen 
to those distant regions stretching away beyond 
the great mountains to the northern lakes of 
which their people had remote traditions yet he 
would not take from them by force a single rood 
of their hunting-grounds but would buy it from 
them with their full consent; when he had told 
them that the great Onas would never allow his 
children to wrong the Indians, to cheat them of 
their fish their wild game, or their beaver-skins r 
198 



IN THE WILDERNESS. 

that in his just mind he had ordained that if a 
quarrel should ever arise in that country between 
a white man and a red one twelve n.en six In- 
dian and six English, should n eet together and 
judge them ; wdien he laid before them the pre&entc 
which he had brought as a sign of amity and 
good-will from his master, the sachems gave the 
w^ampum belt to the young colonel and replied, 
with all the emphasis of sincerity. ' We will live in 
peace with Onas and his children as long as the 
sun and moon endure.' 

Beyond this purchase Penn felt that for the 
moment, it would be unwise to go. Their hunting- 
grounds w^ere dear to them. Had he shown desire 
to possess their lands before he had secured their 
friendship, suspicions would have been engendered 
in their minds. The experiment he had to con- 
duct was so novel that care was needful at every 
step. It would have been madness to offend the 
Iroquois, while the settlers in his villages refused 
to carry arms. Not till he had spent seven 
months in the country would he make proposals 
for the purchase of unoccupied lands. Having 
now become intimate with Taminent and other of 
the native kings, who had approved these treat- 
ies seeing great advantages in them for their 
people he proposed to hold a conference with the 
chiefs and warriors, to confirm the former treaties 
and form a lasting league of peace. 

On the banks of the Delaware, in the suburbs 
of the rising city of Philadelphia, lay a natural 
amphitheatre, used from time immemorial as a 
place of meeting for the native tribes. The name 
of Sakimaxing — now corrupted by the white men 
into Shackamaxon — means the place of kings. At 
this spot stood an aged elm-tree one of those 
glorious elms which mark the forests of the New 
199 



LIFE OF WILLIAM FENN. 

World. It was a hundred and fifty-five years old . 
under its spreading branches friendly nations had 
been wont to meet ; and here the Redskins smoked 
the calumet of peace long before the pale-faces 
landed on those shores. Markham had appointed 
this locality for his first conference, and the land 
commissioners wisely followed his example. Old 
traditions had made the place sacred to one of the 
contracting parties, — and when Penn proposed his 
solemn conference, he named Sakimaxing as a 
place of meeting with the Indian kings. 

Artists have painted, poets sung, philosophers 
praised this meeting of the white men and the red. 
The great outlines of nature are easily regained. 
There the dense masses of cedar, pine, and chest- 
nut spread away into the interior of the land ; 
here the noble river rolled its majestic waters down 
to the Atlantic. Along its surface rose the purple 
smoke of the settler's homestead ; on the opposite 
shores lay the fertile and settled country of West 
New Jersey. Here stood the gigantic elm which 
was to become immortal from that day ; there lay 
the verdant council-chamber formed by nature on 
the surface of the soil. In the centre of this group 
stood William Penn ; in costume undistinguished 
from the English settlers, save by the blue silk 
sash of ofiice. His dress was not ungainly. An 
outer coat reaching to the knees, with rows of 
buttons ; a vest of other materials ; trousers ex- 
tremely full, slashed at the sides, and tied with 
strings ; a profusion of shirt-sleeve and ruflfles ; and 
a hat of the cavalier shape (wanting only the 
feather) , from beneath the brim of which escaped 
the curls of auburn hair, — were its chief and not 
ungraceful ingredients. At his right hand, in the 
uniform of an English soldier, was Colonel Mark- 
ham; on his left Pearson, the brave companion 
:200 



IN THE WILDERNESS. 

of his voyage; and near his person, but a little 
backward, stood a picturesque and various band 
of followers ; old Swedes encased in the uniforms 
worn by them in the camp of Gustavus Adolphus ; 
Dutch and German settlers in the province ; Qua- 
kers in the sober suits of the first Puritans ; sail- 
ors in their rough and ready habits ; members of 
his council and his government ; and though last, 
not least in importance, old Captain Cockle, in- 
terpreter in general to the Red men. When the 
Indians approached in their old forest costume 
their feathers sparkling in the sun. their bodies 
painted yellow, red, and blue the Governor re- 
ceived them with the easy dignity of European 
courts. The reception over, the sachems retired 
to a short distance, and after a brief consultation 
among themselves, Taminent chief sachem, a man 
whose virtues are still remembered by the sons of 
the forest advanced a few steps and putting on 
his head a chaplet into which was twisted a small 
horn, sat down. This chaplet was his symbol of 
power; and in the customs of the Lenni Lenape, 
whenever the chief placed it on his brows the spot 
became sacred, and the person of every one pres- 
ent inviolable. The older sachems sat on his right 
and left; the middle-aged warriors ranged them- 
selves in the form of a crescent round them ; and 
the younger men formed a third and outer semi- 
circle. All being seated, the old king announced 
to the Governor that the natives were prepared to 
heair and consider his words. Penn then rose to 
address them. Thirty-eight years old; light and 
graceful in form; he was 'the handsomest best- 
looking, lively gentleman,' a lady who was near 
him had 'ever seen.' The Great Spirit, he said, 
who ruled in the heaven to which good men go 
after death, who had made them and him out of 
201 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

nothing, and who knew every secret thought that 
was in the heart of white man or red man, 
knew that he and his children had a strong de- 
sire to live in peace, to be their friends, to do no 
wrong, but to serve them in every way. As the 
Great Spirit was the common Father of all he 
wished them to live together not merely as broth- 
ers and the children of a common parent, but as 
if they were joined with one head, one heart, one 
body together; that if ill was done to one, all 
would suffer; if good was done to any all would 
gain. He and his children, he went on to say, 
never fired the rifle never trusted to the sword ; 
they met the Red men on the broad path of good 
faith and good will. They meant no harm, and 
had no fear. He read the treaty of friendship, and 
explained its clauses. It recited that from that 
day the children of Onas and the nations of the 
Lenni Lenape should be brothers to each other — 
that all paths should be free and open— that the 
doors of the white men should be open to the red 
men, and the lodges of the red men should be 
open to the white men, — that the children of Onas 
should not believe any false reports of the Lenni 
Lenape, nor the Lenni Lenape of the children of 
Onas, but should come and see for themselves, 
and bury such false reports in a pit,— that if the 
Christians should hear of anything likely to hurt 
the Indians, or the Indians hear of anything likely 
to harm the Christians they should run, like 
friends, and let the, other know,— that if any son 
of Onas were to do any harm to any Redskin, or 
any Redskin were to do harm to a son of Onas 
the sufferer should not offer to right himself, but 
should complain to the chiefs and to Onas, that 
justice might be declared by twelve honest men, 
and the wrong buried in a pit with no bottom,— 
202 



IN THE WILDERNESS. 

that the Lenni Lenape should assist the white 
men, and the white men should assist the Lenni 
Lenape against all such as would disturb them or 
do them hurt; — and. lastly, that both Christians 
and Indians should tell their children of this 
league and chain of friendship that it might grow 
stronger and stronger, and be kept bright and 
clean without rust or spot, while the waters ran 
down the creeks and rivers, and while the sun and 
moon and stars endured. He laid the scroll on 
the ground. The sachems received his proposals 
for themselves and for their children. No oaths, 
no seals no mummeries, were used; the treaty 
was ratified on both sides with yea. — and unlike 
treaties which are sworn and sealed, was kept, i .a 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Philadelphia (1682-4). 

When Penn had sailed, he held a note in his 
mind of six things to be done on landing : (1) to 
organize his government; (2) to visit Friends in 
Delaware, Pennsylvania and New Jersey; (3) to 
conciliate the Indians ; (4) to see the Governor of 
New York who had previously governed his prov- 
ince; (5) to ax the site for his capital city; (6) 
to arrange his differences with Lord Baltimore. 
The subject of his chief city occupied his anxious 
thought, and Markham had collected information 
for his use. Some people wished to see Chester 
made his capital; but the surveyor. Thomas 
Holme, agreed with Penn that the best locality in 
almost every respect was the neck of land lying 
at the junction of the Delaware and the Skuylkill 
rivers. Both these rivers were navigable, at least 
for small vessels ; the Delaware being a noble 
stream and the Skuylkill broader than the 
Thames at Lambeth Reach. The point was known 
as Wicocoa. In all respects the site agreed with 
Penn's requirements. Facing the river the bank 
was bold and high, the air pure and wholesome; 
the neighbouring lands were free from swamp ; clay 
lor making bricks was found on the spot; im- 
mense quarries of good stone — not a little of it 
the whitest marble — lay within a few miles. These 
advantages not being found elsewhere. Penn soon 
decided in its favour, and taking an open boat at 
Chester Creek, sailed ud the river to this chosen 
spot. The land was owned by three Swedes, from 
204 



PHILADELPHIA. 

whom Penn purchased it on their own terms ; and 
then, with the assistance of Holme, he drew his 
plan. In everything relating to his Holy Experi- 
ment, he thought on a grand scale. Not content 
to begin humbly and allow house to be added to 
house and street to street, as people wanted them, 
he formed the whole scheme of his city— its name, 
its form, its streets its docks and open spaces- 
fair and perfect in his mind, before a single stone 
was laid. 

According to his original design, Philadelphia 
was to cover with its houses, squares, and gar- 
dens, twelve square miles. Two noble streets, one 
of them facing a row of old red pines, were to 
front the two rivers ; a great public thoroughfare 
lying between the houses and the river banks. 
These streets were to be connected by the High 
Street, an avenue perfectly straight, a hundred 
feet in width, to be adorned with lines of trees 
and gardens surrounding each clump of dwelling- 
houses. At a right angle with the High Street. 
Broad Street, of equal width, was to cut the town 
in halves from north to south. The whole city, 
therefore, was divided into four sections. In the 
exact centre a public square of ten acres was re- 
served and in the middle of each quarter a simi- 
lar square of eight acres was set apart for the 
comforr and recreation of posterity. Eight streets, 
each fifty feet wide, were to be built parallel to 
Broad Street, and twenty of the same \\adth paral- 
lel to the rivers. Penn encouraged the building of 
detached houses, with rustic porches and trailing 
plants about them ; his desire being to see Phila- 
delphia 'a green country town.' 

A house was hardly built a cave was hardly 
dug in which to shelter comers from the cold of 
winter, ere the colonists poured in. As soon as 
205 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

it was known that Penn had sailed for his provv 
ince hundreds of persons in the old country 
followed him ; and since the spring not less than 
twenty-three vessels had entered the Delaware 
filled with emigrants most of them anxious to 
remain at the * green country town.' Along the 
high bank of the Delaware nature had formed a 
number of caves, and these were seized by some 
of the colonists, and made as habitable as time 
and circumstances would permit. Some settlers 
lodged under the branches of huge pines ; he blessed 
his stars who was fortunate enough to secure 
the shelter of a tree in the vicinity of his house. 
Women, who had been used to all the luxuries of 
the earth, went out to help their fathers and 
husbands; brought in wood and water; cooked 
the victuals ; tended sheep and pigs ; some of them 
acted as labourers while the house was building, 
anxious to carry mortar or lend a hand at sawing 
a block of wood. If murmur ever once arose, the 
thought of that 'woful Europe' which they had 
left behind soon checked the sigh. A wilderness 
was better than a jail. Before enthusiasm every 
obstacle must give way; and in a short time 
every family had found some sort of shelter from 
the winter frost. 

The first frame completed was a tavern, ferry- 
house, and general place of trade. For many 
years the Blue Anchor maintained a high reputa- 
tion in the province; being a beer-house, an ex- 
change, a corn market, a post-office, and a land- 
ing-place combined. This house became the key of 
the infant city and was connected with the lead- 
ing incidents of its early days. The Blue Anchor 
was formed of large rafters of wood, the inter- 
stices being filled with bricks brought from England 
in the manner of Cheshire houses of the Tudor 
206 



PHILADELPHIA. 

and Stuart reigns. It had twelve feet of frontage 
towards the river, and it stood full twenty-two 
feet backwards, into what was afterwards Dock 
Street. Modern magnates of Philadelphia may 
smile at the dimensions of a house of so much 
interest to their fathers, but posterity will feel for 
ever grateful to the founder of their city, that in 
an age of means so limited and results so small, 
he clung to his own conceptions laying down the 
outlines of his city with as much order as if sure 
he was rearing the cai)ital of a mighty state. 
Other houses, such as they were, were soon com- 
pleted. Within a few months of the foundation, 
Penn could announce to the Society of Traders 
that eighty houses and cottages were ready ; that 
the merchants and craftsmen had fallen into their 
callings ; that the farmers had partly cleared their 
lands; that ships were continually coming with 
goods and passengers; and that plentiful crops 
had been obtained from the soil. Enterprise then 
took bolder flights. One settler named Carpenter 
built a quay three hundred feet long, by the side 
of which a vessel of five hundred tons could be 
moored. The first mayor of the town made a 
rope-walk; and stone houses, with pointed roofs, 
balconies, and porches, ceased to excite remark. 
One year from the date of Penn's landing in the 
New World, a hundred houses had been built ; two 
years later there were six hundred houses. Penn's 
correspondence with his friends in England is full 
of honest exultation. To Lord Halifax he writes, 
' I must without vanity say, I have led the great- 
est colony into America that ever any man did on 
private credit.' To Lord Sunderland he says, 
'With the help of God and such noble friends, I 
will show a province in seven years equal to her 
neighbour's of forty years' planting.' 
207 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

"But the material growth of his city occupied 
only a part of Penn's attention. He took early 
and regular steps for the protection of morals and 
the promotion of art and scholarship. Before the 
pines had been cleared from his ground he began 
to build schools and set up a printing-press. 
These were not the least marvellous of the many 
novelties introduced into Philadelphia. In other 
American settlements such luxuries had slowly fol- 
lowed in the wake of prosperty. In December, 
1683, Enoch Flower opened his school in a hut, 
formed of pine and cedar planks, and divided into 
two apartments by a wooden frame. A Philadel- 
phian of the present age may smile at the sim- 
plicity of Enoch's charges and curriculum, though 
his ancestors thought such matters worthy of a 
place in their minutes of council : ' To learn to 
read, four shillings a quarter: to write six shil- 
lings : boarding a scholar — to wit diet lodging, 
washing and schooling — ten pounds the whole 
year,' 

Six years afterwards a public school was founded, 
in which the famous George Keith was the first 
master. The office of teacher was held in high esti- 
mation. Keith was allowed fifty pounds a-year, 
a house for his family, and a set of school-rooms, 
over and above all the profits made by the 
payments of his scholars ; in addition to which he 
received a guarantee that his total income should 
never fall below a hundred and twenty pounds in 
any year — a very considerable sum in those days 
in a society so small and primitive, William Brad- 
ford the printer who went out with Penn. set up 
his craft. In Massachusetts no book or paper 
had been printed until eighteen years after the 
first settlement; in New York seventy-three years 
had elapsed before a press was got to work; in 
208 



PIIILADIOI.PJHA. 

every other colony founded by England the inter- 
val had been greater still; and in the two prov- 
inces of Virginia and Maryland the governors had 
set their faces against the press. The first book 
printed in Philadelphia was an Almanac for 1687. 
which must have been printed in the preceding 
year. Another institution which Penn established 
deserves to be classed with his intellectual legisla- 
tion. The post-oflSce had been at work in England 
but a few years ; yet so convinced was Penn of its 
utility that he at once issued orders to Henry 
Waldy to run a post and supply travellers with 
horses. From the Falls of Trenton to Philadelphia 
the carriage of a letter was charged three-pence — 
to Chester five-pence— to Newcastle seven-pence— 
to Maryland nine-pence. From Philadelphia to 
Chester the charge was two-pence — to Newcastle 
four-pence— to Maryland six-pence. The post trav- 
elled once a-week I 

When the members of Penn's first free parlia- 
ment met he saw how hard it is to frame laws 
and constitutions for a political society at a dis- 
tance ; for instead of the full number of members, 
each county sent up only twelve, three for the 
Council, nine for the Assembly, making seventy- 
two persons— no more in all than the number he 
had originally fixed for the Council. They bore 
with them a written statement of the reasons 
which had led the electors to disregard the letter 
of his WTits ; a statement concluding with a prayer 
that this act of self-judgment might not cause the 
proprietor to think of altering their charter, Penn 
was no formalist ; and as they came with full pow- 
ers, he told them they were at liberty to change, 
amend, or add to. the existing laws; he was not 
wedded to his own conceits, but would consent to 
any changes they might wish to make. 
14 209 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

The Assembly appointed Thomas Wynne as 
speaker. Some parts of the Frame of Government 
acted as a restraint on the freedom of the Assem- 
bly, especially that clause which reserved to the 
Governor and his Council the sole right to pro- 
pose new laws. From the first day of meeting the 
Assembly set this restriction at nought, but in re- 
turn they wished to invest the Governor with a 
veto on all the doings of parliament. This last was 
necessary ; the King's sanction being required to 
make every act of the colonial legislature binding, 
it was obvious that no law would be received in 
England which came unsupported by the Govern- 
or's vote. These and other points in which changes 
seemed desirable were discussed. Amendments 
were suggested and new frames drawn up. The 
House was anxious to obtain the privilege of con- 
ference with the Governor. An opinion was ex- 
pressed that it might be well to make a new 
charter on the principles laid down in the Frame 
of Government, but in other respects to be the 
growth of the New World and to bear date from 
the new capital. 

This design amounted to a transfer of the leg- 
islative power from the Council to the Assembly ; 
and Penn saw with no little uneasiness the grasp- 
ing spirit of his parliament. He called his Coun- 
cil together and laid before them the prayer ot 
the Assembly, Had the Council been complete 
they might have fought ; but fearing controversy 
with the larger house of representatives, they ad- 
vised that an open conference should be held to as- 
certain the general opinion. The Assembly was 
then summoned, and the Governor asked them dis- 
tinctly yea or nay. whether they desired to have 
a new charter. They replied— yea, unanimously. 
He then addressed them in a few words :— He ex- 
210 



PHILADELPHIA. 

pressed his willingness to meet their wishes, and 
gave his consent to a revision of the charter; at 
the same time telling them they should consider 
their own duty as well as his desire to oblige 
them, and he hoped they would not find it diflfi- 
cult to reconcile the two. 

A general committee being appointed to draw 
up a new charter, in ten days it was prepared, 
and on the 30th of March 1683, it was read, ap- 
proved, and signed by the proprietor — subject, of 
course, to the revision of the crown lawyers in 
England. The Council was reduced to eighteen— 
the Assembly to thirty-six members. Governor 
and Council still retained the initiative; but the 
Assembly obtained some privileges and left the 
way open for the acquisition of more as circum- 
stances might favour their designs. The consti- 
tution remained the same. All power was vested 
in the people. They elected members of Council 
and members of Assembly. Judges were elected 
to their seats ; and Penn gave his power to sus- 
pend them. In the neighbouring state of Mary- 
land, Lord Baltimore appointed magistrates, 
officers of government, members of council, every 
class of functionaries. Penn could not name either 
a street-sweeper or a parish-constable. ' I purpose ' 
he explained to a friend, Ho leave myself and my 
successors no power of doing mischief, that the 
will of one man may not hinder the good of a 
whole country.' 

The Assembly established courts of justice for 
each county with the proper officers to each ; they 
voted an impost on certain goods exported or im- 
ported for the Governor's support, which he de- 
clined. He would not hear of imposts ; and a tax- 
gatherer was for many years an unknown figure. 
To prevent law-suits, three Peace-Makers were 
211 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEx\N. 

chosen by every county-court to hear and settle 
disputes between man and man according to the 
right. Law was only to be invoked as a last re- 
source. Twice a-year an Orphans' court w^as to 
meet in each county to inquire into and regulate 
the affairs of widows and orphans. All this early 
legislation reads like pages out of Harrington and 
More. 

The little parliament having finished its labours 
and adjourned, Penn made a journey up the river 
to a spot where Markham was engaged in build- 
ing Pennsbury. The time was near when he had 
agreed to meet Lord Baltimore at Newcastle and 
settle, if they could, their boundary lines. They 
met, but with no more success than in the pre- 
vious year. There is but little doubt that in 
accordance with the terms of their several grants, 
both proprietors could legally claim some parts 
of the territory ; and neither of them felt inclined 
to surrender what he deemed his right. Lord 
Baltimore wrote off to Blaythwaite and Halifax 
an account of the interview, giving it in such a 
way as to serve his own interest at the distant 
court. Penn learned that his rival had written 
to London vsithout his privity ; he suspected Balti- 
more of not conveying a fair report of what had 
taken place between them ; and he instantly sat 
down and wrote to the Board of Trade. He ex- 
pressed his surprise that Baltimore should have 
given a report of their conference without his 
knowledge and consent, protested against its be- 
ing received as a true report, and proceeded to 
give his own version of the meeting at full length. 
In order that he might be represented on the spot 
by one in whose truth, judgment and fidelity, he 
had perfect confidence, he sent his cousin Mark- 
ham as his agent to the court in London, pro- 
212 



PHILADELPHIA. 

vided with letters to the King himself, to the 
Earl of Sunderland to Henry Sydney, and to the 
officers of the colonial department. In the early 
spring* of 1684, Baltimore quitted Maryland for 
London ; a movement which suggested to I^enn 
the need of being likewise on the spot; even if 
causes of deeper and more painful interest than 
the loss of a few hundred miles of territory had 
not begun to crowd on him. 

About the time that Lord Baltimore departed 
from the colony, letters arrived for Penn bringing 
with them a long list of calamities. His wife Guli 
was seriously ill; his friend Sydney had perished 
on the block ; Shaftsbury and Essex were both in 
prison; persecution of nonconformers had begun 
to rage; Oxford had put forth the doctrine of 
passive obedience; and his enemies were heaping 
calumnies on his name. 

Penn felt that he must go at once. Summoning 
the chiefs of all the Indian tribes in his vicinity to 
Pennsbury, he concluded with each a separate 
treaty of peace. He told them he was going be- 
yond the seas for a little while but would return 
to them again if the Great Spirit permitted him 
to live. He begged of them to drink no more fire- 
water, and forbade his own people to sell them 
brandy and rum ; he put them in the ways of 
honest trade and husbandry; he obtained from 
them a promise that they would live at peace and 
amity with each other and with the Christians. 
The new city engaged his daily thoughts ; he felt 
some comfort in seeing it steadily rising from the 
ground ; and as the news from Europe darkened 
he was more and more anxious that Pl'iladelphia 
might become a haven of safety in the coming 
storm. 

The brig Eiuleavour being now ready to leave 
213 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

the Delaware, he named a mixed commission to 
conduct the affairs of government in his absence. 
Thomas Loyd was named president; Colonel 
Markham (who was to return immediately) sec- 
retary; assisted by Thomas Holme James Clay- 
pole, Robert Turner and two or three others. Go- 
ing on board, Penn addressed to Thomas Loyd 
and the rest a parting letter, in which he thus 
apostrophised the city of his heart :— 

' And thou, Philadelphia, the virgin settlement 
of this province, named before thou wert born, 
what love, what care, what service, and what tra- 
vail, has there been to bring thee forth and pre- 
serve thee from such as would abuse and defile 
thee I My soul prays to God for thee, that thou 
mayest stand in the day of trial, that thy chil- 
dren may be blessed of the Lord, and thy people 
saved by His power 1' 



214 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

At Home (1G84-8o). 

When Giili Penn fell sick, she wrote to ask her 
old friend Ellwood to ride over and direct her hus- 
band's business. Ellwood lived not far from 
Worniinghurst and would have come to her at 
once but for a trouble of his own. A book of his. 
which had been circulating in the neighbourhood 
by the means of William Ajrs. a barber and 
apothecary, had got into the hands of Sir Ben- 
jamin Tichborne a stupid justice of the peace, 
who thought it dangerous to the King. Sir Ben- 
jamin summoned Ayrs before the county bench; 
on which the barber ran to Ellwood's house to let 
him know. Ellwood was seeing Ayrs and giving 
him his word that on the day of hearing he would 
go before the magistrates and own his book when 
Guli's messenger arrived. What could he do in 
this new stress? He could not leave the barber to 
his fate; yet if he stayed to answer at the petty 
session, Guli Penn might die before he reached her 
house. There was a middle course, He might go 
round to Tichborne park, and take the blame 
upon himself. Leaping to horse, he rode to Tich- 
borne, where he found Sir Benjamin and a brother- 
justice, Thomas Fotherly. and told them who he 
was and why he had come to own his book. They 
heard him in a sullen mood, and were about to 
have him seized, when it occurred to them to ask 
him why he had come before the day appointed 
for his cas-e. Ellwood showed them (Uili's note. 
'While I thus delivered mys^elf.' he writes, 'I ob- 
215 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

served a sensible alteration in the justice, and 
when I had done speaking, he said he was very 
sorry for Madame Penn's illness (of whose virtues 
and worth he spoke very highly, but not more 
highly than was her due). Then he told me that 
for her Scikehe would do what he could to further 
my suit; but he added, "I can assure you the 
matter which will be laid to your charge is of 
greater importance than you think." ' On Ell- 
wood pledging his word to appear when called 
upon, he was allowed to leave ; he got to Wor- 
minghurst that day ; and ' Madame Penn' im- 
proved so fast, that when her husband landed at 
Shoreham from his ship, she was able to go down 
and meet him at that Sussex port. 

After passing three or four days with his fam- 
ily, Penn went to Newmarket, where he saw the 
King and Duke of York, who both received him 
kindly, and assured him that justice should be 
done about his boundary lines. Baltimore was 
on the spot, but the King's health was now fail- 
ing, and the affair was suffered to languish,— both 
parties hoping from either the justice or the friend- 
ship of his brother. Feeling that possession was 
nine parts of the law, and knowing that his neigh- 
bour would not oppose force to force Lord Balti- 
more ordered his relative Colonel Talbot to seize 
the territory in dispute and hold it in his name. 
With three musqueteers Talbot invaded some farm- 
houses, proclaimed Lord Baltimore proprietor, 
and threatened to expel any one who .' hould re- 
fuse to admit his claim. Talbot threatened a de- 
scent on Newcastle ; but the Government of Penn- 
sylvania having issued a declaration of their pro- 
prietor's right over the disputed tract and an- 
nounced an intention to prosecute the authors of 
the recent outrage in the English courts, Talbot 
210 



AT HOME. 

waited for fresh orders to come out. The feint 
of war had answered its purpose, that of raiting 
suspicions in England as to Penn's pacific ideas. 
The moment this disturbance was heard of, foes 
began to whisper that the preacher of peace was 
mounting guns and fortifying towns. But Penn 
explained that when he went to America a few 
old guns were lying on the green by the Session- 
house at Newcastle, some on the ground others 
on broken carriages, but that there had been no 
ball, no powder, no soldier there from the day he 
landed ; and he could no more be charged with 
warlike propensities on this account, than a man 
might be who happened to buy a house with an 
old musket in it. 

On the 6th of February, 1685. Charles the 
Second breathed his last; and James the Second 
quietly succeeded to his throne. The reign of 
Charles had been the most shameful in our an- 
nals; vice had reared its head in the highest places, 
and the first rank of the peerage had been filled 
with wantons; the honour of the country had 
been sold to the enemy of its freedom and its 
faith ; persecution had ravened through the land. 
Penn counted up the familie:'? ruined for opinions 
in that reign to more than fifteen thousand. Of 
those who were cast into jails not less than four 
thousand had died. As Duke of York, James had 
often lifted up his voice against these atrocities; 
and when he came to the throne, a statement of 
the wrongs, in mind, in body, and estate, endured 
by unoffending men was placed in his hands. 
Penn waited on him at Whitehall to remind him 
of the good-will he had formerly professed towards 
all conscientious i)ersons. and to beg his interfer- 
ence in behalf of the many religious men and wo- 
men then in jail. The King was affable. He 
217 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

talked to Penn with his old frankness, and when 
the Quaker spoke of the penal laws then in opera- 
tion, and expressed a hope that the poor Quakers 
languishing in Marshalsea, Newgate, and the Gate- 
house_, would find relief, James took him into his 
private closet, where they long remained in talk. 
Penn has preserved the substance of what passed. 
His Majesty said he should deal openly with his 
subjects. He was himself a Catholic, and he de- 
sired no person to be disturbed on account of his 
opinions ; but he would defer making any distinct 
promise until the day fixed for his coronation, 
and even then he could only exercise his preroga- 
tive to pardon such as were already suffering un- 
justly. With a new parliament would rest the 
power to establish liberty of conscience. 

James was better than his word. He charged 
his judges to discourage persecution on the score 
of religious differences ; he opened his prison-gates 
to every person who was confined for refusing to 
take oaths of allegiance and supremacy. Twelve 
hundred Quakers obtained their freedom by this 
act of justice. Opinions varied at that time— and 
vary still— as to James's motives. Simple men 
saw in these orders the acts of a prince who had 
tasted the bitterness of persecution. Penn believed 
that this liberty of worship granted by James was* 
neither a delusion nor a snare. 

As friend, as patron, and as guardian, the new 
King seemed well disposed to Penn. He directed 
the Board of Trade to collect the papers having 
reference to his controversy with Baltimore, es- 
pecially the authorised and sworn versions of what 
had taken place between Markham, Penn. and 
Baltimore, in their private conferences ; and when 
this was done, Penn went through the form of 
praying that his Majesty would command the 
218 



AT HOME. 

Board of Trade to decide the question without 
delay. It is not necess-arj to enter into the de- 
tails of this settlement. Ignorance of the geogra- 
phy of America had led the original granters of 
the charters to include some parts of the Penin- 
sula in both the patents. But as Baltimore's 
right had priority of date, and had ne^tr I een 
cancelled, his supporters argued, with fair fchov» cf 
reason, that the latter grant was invalid, the 
King not being able to give away lands which 
were not his own. On the other hand, as the 
Maryland charter expressly stated that only lands 
which w^ere wild and wa^te w-ere as-signed to Lord 
Baltimore, it was urged with equal cogency that 
the tract on the Delaware, then settled and culti- 
vated by the Dutch and Swedes, could not have 
been included in the patent, \\hile the Duke of 
York remained master of these territories, the 
Maryland proprietor had been silent about his 
claims, and it was only when he foind the new 
Governor about to plant a democracy in his im- 
mediate neighbourhood that he became anxious 
about the unproductive strip of ground lying be- 
tween the Chesapeake and the Delaware. James 
settled the question— for a time— by dividing 
the territory in dispute into two equal parts, 
the eastern half of which he transferred to Lord 
Baltimore as his by right, and the western half of 
which he added to the crown, so as to place it 
beyond the reach of future litigation, with a view 
to granting it to Finn on new conditions, with a 
perfect title, 

Penn now saw that he had work to do— and 
work which no one else could do— at home. The 
laws against opinion under which Penn had suf- 
fered, still existed ; hundreds of poor Quakers were 
still confined for tithes and jailor's fees; and the 
219 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Church party, instead of showing a friendly dispov 
sition towards Dissenters proposed that the House 
of Commons should petition James to put the 
penal laws against them into execution. At such 
a time he felt that Providence had placed him 
near the throne ; that on him had fallen in a vio- 
lent time, the work of daily mercy and mediation. 
He accepted his position with a full sense of its 
perils ; but he trusted to the sanctity of his oflBce. 
'the general mediator for charity/ for a liberal 
construction of his acts. To him and his, the 
ordinary laws afforded no protection; a fine or 
fee was a sentence of imprisonment to a man who 
in his conscience could not pay fines and fees. A 
judge might order a poor wretch to be set at lib- 
erty, but then the jailor showed his list of charges, 
and unless the judge were mlling to pay them out 
of his own purse the wretch was sent tack again 
to jail. Conscience was at war with law, and the 
only hope of obtaining justice not to speak of 
mercy, for the sufferers lay in the royal right to 
pardon and relieve. 

To be near the court, Penn hired apartments in 
Holland House at Kensington and brought Guli 
and his family to town. The house was large, 
and he had many visitors. His influence with the 
King was known, and every man with a grievance 
found in him a counsellor and a friend. Envoys 
were sent from the American colonies to solicit his 
influence in their behalf ; members of his sect and 
of many other sects crowded to his levees ; some- 
times not less than two hundred persons were in 
attendance at his door. 

One of the earliest favours which Penn is known 
to have begged from the new King will be remem- 
bered to his honour as long as a taste for let- 
ters shall endure. In the preceding reign, when 
220 



AT HOME. 

Shaftsbiiry had fled to the Continent, John Locke, 
as one of his friends, had fallen under court sus- 
picion; but so serene and blameless was the life 
he had led at Oxford that the Council feared to 
try him. Charles had employed his creatures at 
Christ Church to entrap Locke into some unwary 
expression— some word of sympathy for the al- 
leged conspirators— any, even the least remark 
which malice might construe into a crime. But 
Locke had given them no assistance in their work. 
At length, on treachery failing force had been 
employed. Sunderland conveyed to the authorities 
of the college his Majesty's commands to strip the 
unmoved philosopher of his honours and dignities, 
and expel him from the University. These author- 
ities had put their doctrine of absolute obedience 
into practice ; and a week later the Secretary of 
State could thank the college in his Majesty's 
name for their ready compliance with his orders. 
Locke, then on the Continent had been cast out 
from the University of which he was the chiefest 
ornament and going to reside at the Hague had 
busied himself in finishing his great work on the 
Human Understanding, and in furnishing the 
friends of liberty with new arguments in favour of 
toleration. Touched with a situation in some 
respects so like his own in earlier life. Penn put 
his influence to the test by asking permission for 
his old acquaintance to return to England. James 
had been a party to his banishment; and it was 
felt to be a signal instance of his favour that he 
promised what the intercessor asked for, without 
a scruple and without conditions. Penn at once 
wrote off these tidings to the Hague : but the il- 
lustrious exile conscious of no crime while noting 
his deep sense of obligation to the meditator, re- 
fused to accept the proffered pardon. And in this 
221 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

view of his duty Locke continued steadfast. When 
Pembroke offered his services to obtain a similar 
concession from the King, he returned the same 
answer. That he thankfully remembered the unso- 
licited kindness of his ' friend Penn' was seen in the 
good offices he was able to render in return after 
the Revolution. Locke's friend, Popple, was less 
scrupulous. Being involved in troublesome affairs 
in France, Popple applied to the 'general media- 
tor.' Penn, convinced of Popple's honour and in- 
nocence, went to M. Barillon, and procured from 
that ambassador such a representation of Pop- 
ple's affair at the court of Versailles as soon put 
an end to his troubles. The future Secretary of 
State retained a warm sense of gratitude to his 
benefactor, and events afterwards placed it in Pop- 
ples power in some measure to repay his debt. 
Nor did Locke himself scruple to ask that for 
others which his pride rejected for himself. 



222 



CHAPTER XXVII. 
At Court (1685-86). 

The reign of James brought back the troubles 
of an earlier time. The names of Cavalier and 
Roundhead were revived. Monmouth and Argyle 
were secretly preparing for invasion. Public pas- 
sion was aflame. When Titus Gates was placed in 
the pillory after his trial people were excited to a 
serious breach of the peace. The zeal of fanatic 
Churchmen was inflamed to frenzy on seeing James 
go publicly to mass. Sermons and speeches 
against Popery were delivered in all churches, chap- 
els, coffee-houses, and places of general resort. 
Even in the royal chapel at Whitehall the rites 
and ceremonies practised by the sovereign were de- 
nounced as contrary to the Word of God and to 
the laws of England. In the midst of these dis- 
tractions, James held on his course. He clung to 
his own notions of religion with a tenacity worthy 
of an Englishman ; and refused to purchase the 
support of his ancient friends, the Cavaliers, by 
any sacrifice of his bigotry to their intolerance, 
even when Argyle had landed in the north, and 
the signal of revolt was daily expected in the 
west. 

A committee of the House of Commons, under 
the influence of the Church party, proposed to 
petition the King for the instant execution of all 
the penal statutes against Dissent. Though some 
of the King's personal friends were present they 
were silent. James informed of what had taken 
place, sent for his friends and laid before them so 
clearly his determination to err on the side of 
223 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

mercy (if he must err at all), that they went 
away convinced of his sincerity, and took their 
measures with such success that the motion was 
condemned as an insult to the sovereign and re- 
jected without a division. Penn began to feel 
some hope that Parliament would find itself in a 
temper to discuss a general act. 

Literature came to the aid of freedom, from an 
unexpected quarter. Penn's acquaintance with the 
Duke of Buckingham was of old standing ; and the 
public fancied it was at Penn's instigation or 
through his influence, that the Duke brought out 
his Essay on Religion. Buckingham argues for 
universal charity towards opinion. He says he 
had long been convinced that nothing can be 
more anti- Christian nor more contrary to sense 
and reason, than to molest our feilow-Christians 
because they cannot be exactly of our minds in all 
that relates to the worship of God. The effueion 
breathes this spirit; and it is not a little to the 
author's credit that during a life of more than 
ordinary fickleness and change he never wavered 
from this view. He concludes his discourse with the 
paraphrase of a thought often expressed by Penn, 
to the effect that if Parliament refused to adopt 
a more liberal policy towards opinion, the result 
would be ' a general discontent, the dispeopling of 
our poor country and the exposing us to the con- 
quest of a foreign nation.' A pamphlet on such 
a subject by the author of the Rehearsal naturally 
excited much attention. The wit of the court was 
answered by wits of the coffee-house. Some of 
these answers were rather smart. One writer al- 
ludes to the great rake taking up with Whiggism 
in her old age, when she is a poor cast-off mistress, 
that porters and footmen turn away from in 
©corn ; and wonders how his grace can think of 
224 



AT COURT. 

making himself the champion of any thing so out 
of all countenance as religion and toleration. The 
graA'er argument adduced bj these writers against 
any concession to the sectaries, was the alleged 
peril of the nation. Liberty, they said, was 
fraught with danger. There had been liberties in 
the time of Charles the First —and Charles the 
First lost his head ; there was toleration under 
the Commonwealth,— and the Commonwealth fell I 

One of the disputants charged the Duke with 
having been misled by Penn; and being thus 
dragged into the lists, a duty to maintain the 
right urged Penn to add his testimony to the 
principle of enlightened policy advocated by the 
Duke. A vein of satire runs through his discourse. 
He expresses his great pleasure in seeing a work 
in defence-of religion from such a pen and sincerely 
hopes that the witty writer may soon begin to 
enjoy those felicities of a good life which he has 
proved himself able to describe. When that day 
arrives, he says in conclusion he will be happy to 
press the gentlemen of England to imitate so il- 
lustrious an example. At first, the King affected 
to take no notice of this literary combat; but 
when he found the Church party in alarm, and 
heard from those about him that nothing else 
was talked of in the coffee-houses, he began to 
read the book. Barillon saw its importance from 
the first; and as soon as Buckingham's pamphlet 
appeared he caused it to be translated , and sent 
over to his master as a key to the new and 
serious questions which were now dividing England 
into hostile camps. 

The expeditions under Monmouth and Argyle 

failed. These events and the trials and executions 

to which they led belong to the domain of general 

history. Penn's connexion with them was but 

15 225 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENxX. 

slight. He was himself an object of suspicion to 
the court. Though it is not imagined that he 
gave the followers of Monmouth any reason to 
believed he approved their projects it is known 
that they regarded him as a friend to their cause, 
and that in their plans they set him down as one 
of the half-dozen persons who might help to bring 
over the American colonies to accept a Protestant 
revolution. The ministry were conscious that his 
sympathies were not with them, and they pro- 
fessed to regard him as a partisan of the Prince 
of Orange. Against these suspicions and misgiv- 
ings he had no protection save the private favour 
of the King. Penn strove to mitigate the suf- 
ferings of men who had been drawn into rebellion. 
God had given him an asylum for the oppressed ; 
and when the prisoners were sentenced to trans- 
portation beyond sea he offered them a home in 
Pennsylvania where the climate would agree with 
them, and their offences would be looked upon 
with lenient eyes. 

When the trials in the country were over and 
those in London began, Penn was still more anx- 
iously employed in the work of mediation. One 
of the first victims of royal rigour was an old ac- 
quaintance of his own. Five years before this time, 
when the court was moving heaven and earth to 
defeat the Sydney party in elections two liberals, 
Henry Cornish and Slingsby Bethel, had the cour- 
age to stand for the office of sheriffs in the city 
of London; and in spite of bribery and threats, 
they carried the election. The mob gave vent to 
their triumph by party cries ; and James took this 
defeat to heart as if it had been a personal insult. 
From that day Cornish was a marked man ; and 
when the Rye-House plot exploded, he was believed 
to be involved in it past recovery. The evidence, 
22G 



AT COURT. 

however, was not complete, and he had now been 
two years at large after the execution of Sydney, 
and was congratulating himself on his escape, 
when James obtained the evidence required. He 
was arrested, tried, found guilty, and gibbeted in 
front of his own house in Cheapside, That Cor- 
nish was accused and sentenced as the accomplice 
of Sydney was not without its weight with Penn ; 
but the mediator took a higher view ; he declared 
his belief that the condemned man was innocent of 
the crimes alleged against him and he begged the 
King to pause ere signing warrants for his death. 
His arguments failed to touch the King. Another 
case, pending at the same moment interested his 
feelings, not less strongly. Elizabeth Gaunt a 
lady of religious temperament and of spotless life, 
whose time and fortune had been spent in visiting 
prisons and relieving the WTetched. had in a mo- 
ment of compassion given the shelter of her house 
to one of the fugitive rebels ; but as the govern- 
ment declared its determination to punish those 
who harboured traitors with as much severity as 
the traitors themselves, the scoundrel whom she 
had tried to save informed against his humane 
protectress, and she was thereupon arrested, found 
guilty, and condemned to be burnt at Tyburn. 
For her I^enn also interceded— but in vain. 

Penn stood near Cornish to the last — and vin- 
dicated his memory after death. The creatures of 
the court annoyed at the indignant bearing of 
the city merchant on the scaffold, gave out that 
he was drunk. Penn repelled the charge : he said 
he could see nothing in his conduct but the natu- 
ral indignation of an Englishman about to be 
murdered by form of law. From Cheapside Penn 
went to Tyburn. The poor lady met her fate 
with calmness and resignation. She had obeyed 
227 



LIFE OP WILLIAM PENX. 

the merciful promptings of her heart in sheltering 
a fellow-creature from the blood-hounds of the 
law; and when grave judges pronounced this act 
worthy of tire and faggot, she submitted to the 
King's pleasure in silence. As she arranged the 
straw about her feet that the flame might do its 
work more quickly, the whole concourse of spec- 
tators burst into tears. To the last she asserted 
her innocence, her loyalty, her respect for the laws. 
But she did not repent of what she had done. 
The cause in which she suffered w^as she said the 
cause of humauity — the cause of God. 

Penn was able when he afterwards pleaded with 
his sovereign for mercy, to quote these instances 
of persons who had gone down to the grave pro- 
testing their innocence. But some of James's 
ministers disliked his interference; and to punish 
his presumption they contrived not onl}^ to post- 
pone his legal investiture with the Delaware prov- 
ince, though, as he enjoyed it in fact, there could 
be no reason for withholding it in form, but under 
pretence of a general measure of reform for the 
colonies, they also gave orders to the crown law- 
yers to issue a quo warmnto against his province 
of Pennsylvania, and proceed against him with 
such vigour as to compel him to vacate his 
charter. 

James was then at Windsor Castle; Penn went 
to see him ; and in less than a week Sunderland 
WTote to the Attorney-general to suspend proceed- 
ings until further orders. Further orders were not 
issued. James listened to his counsels with inter- 
est, even where his owti temper forbade him to 
follow them — for his manner was soft and win- 
ning, and he had not only dear ideas but wit and 
scholarship to recommend his views. His oppor- 
tunities were nobly used. If any fault can be 
228 



AT COURT. 

found with his conduct, it is that his charity was 
a little too indiscriminate. A Whig applied to Penn. 
rather, as he confesses, with a view to ascertain 
his ideas of political mercy than with any hope 
of obtaining what he asked, to solicit from the 
King a pardon for Aaron Smith. Had Penn 
known Aaron Smith a little better he might have 
paused. But Aaron Smith had done one bold and 
manly thing; he had refused to give evidence 
against Sydney. Smith had been a prisoner in the 
Tower, and government had offered him a full dis- 
charge, if he would compromise the patriot's life. 
'I cannot tell you anything.' he had said, 'that 
would touch a hair of Sydney's head.' When Penn 
was asked to speak for Aaron Smith, he therefore 
undertook the task. A few days afterwards, when 
alone with James, he made his request. The King 
started at the name.— flew into a violent passion. 
— replied in his angriest tone that he would do no 
such thing. — that six fellows like Smith would put 
the three kingdoms in a flame — and threatened in 
his wrath to turn the petitioner out of doors. Yet 
Penn would not desist. He got, with trouble — for 
Smith was obstinate — a letter from the delinquent ; 
and taking an opportunity, when James was in a 
good humour, and the scene in the closet had 
faded from his recollection, he again pressed the 
suit of mercy, and obtained a pardon for the exile. 
Bonds of friendship grew between the Quaker 
and the Catholic, who had suffered proscription, 
pillories, and exile together, in the common name 
of religion. Even when he was suffering under 
laws directed against Papists, Penn had never 
proposed to escape by joining in the hue and cry 
after Romanists. While he condemned their creed, 
he contended for their liberty of thought. All 
that he asiced for himself he gave to them. Yet 
229 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

not without drawing suspicion upon himself. Hear- 
ing none of the usual cant about Popery from his 
lips, some ignorant folk began to fancy he must 
be a Papist in disguise. He was often seen at 
court; he was kno^Ti to have much favour with 
the King; and courtiers, waiting in the ante- 
chamber while he was closeted with their master, 
could think of no other explanation. Once, when 
Penn was travelling in the country in a stage- 
coach, the passengers beguiled the time by talking 
on the usual topics of the day. One man asked 
Penn how he, Barclay, and Keith, had come to 
have so much learning and such love of letters, 
seeing that Quakers professed to despise these 
things? 'I suppose.' said Penn, 'it comes of my 
having been educated at Saumur.' Mistaking the 
name, his questioner reported that Penn had been 
educated at St. Omer. At St. Omer the Jesuits 
had a seminary. How easy the conclusion then 1 
He must be. not a Papist merely, but a Jesuit. 
Soon afterwards it was reported in every coffee- 
house in London that Penn had matriculated in 
the Jesuits' College —had taken holy orders in 
Rome, — and now regularly officiated at the service 
of mass in the private chapel at Whitehall. All 
this was said in spite of his lay habits —his wife 
and children —his public preaching —his Caveat 
against Popery I Nor did these simple lies con- 
tent the curious; more mysterious and romantic 
incidents came out. A tale got abroad of a monk 
who had abjured his faith and fled away to Amer- 
ica for safety. Attracted to Pennsylvania the 
poor fellow had placed himself unwittingly in the 
power of his superior. — who had got him secretly 
kidnapped by his own familiars and sent to Eu- 
rope, to be there delivered over to the awiul retri- 
butions of his Church. Some men of sober judg- 
230 



AT COURT. 

vnent lent unwilling ear to these reports. Tillot- 
Hon was one of this class. Tillotson had once told 
him it was reported that he kept up a secret cor- 
r*^spondence with Rome, and particularly with 
some of the Jesuits there; at which his visitor 
seemed much surprised and more amused. Noth- 
ing more was said that day — nor was it for a 
long time after, as Penn had gone out to his 
province, and on his return he had either forgot- 
ten the circumstance or was too busy to attend 
to such matters. When Tillotson heard of Penn 
being a Jesuit, he could not deny it on certain 
knowledge ; and as they were kno\sTi to have been 
on intimate terms, the gossips found support for 
the rumour even in Tillotson's silence. Then it 
was noised abroad that Tillotson affirmed of his 
own knowledge that Penn was a Jesuit. 

Few men despised clamour and false representa- 
tion more than Penn ; and yet he thought it time 
to speak when those who should have knovNTi him 
better were said to countenance such reports. 
He wrote to his old friend :— he was grieved, he 
said, to hear the reports in question, whether it 
was the public which abused Tillotson, or Tillot- 
son who had misunderstood him. He would only 
say. for he could not join in a cry to ruin those 
he differed from, that he abhorred two principles in 
religion, and pitied those who held them — obedi- 
ence on mere authority without conviction, and 
persecution of man on pretence of serving God. 
When truth was clear, he thought union was best; 
where not. he thought charity best. He agreed 
with Hooker, that a few words spoken with meek- 
ness, humility, and love, are worth whole vol- 
umes of controversy — which commonly destroys 
charity, the best part of religion. 

Tillotson replied without reserve. He had, he 
281 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

admitted, been troubled with doubts, and had 
sometimes spoken of them. He was sorry for it. 
He admired his old friend's \Aat and zeal; and so 
soon as he distinctly stated that he was not a 
Papist, he would do all in his power to correct the 
rumours that were about. Penn answered at once 
that he had no correspondence with the Jesuits, 
nor with any other body at Rome — that he wTote 
no letters to any priest of the Popish faith — that 
he was not even acquainted w^ith any priest be- 
longing to that communion. Yet, he added, 
though not a Romanist, he was a Catholic; he 
could not deny to others what he claimed for him- 
self — thinking faith, piety, and providence, a bet- 
ter security than force ; and that if truth could not 
succeed with her own weapons, all others would 
fail her. On the receipt of this letter Tillotson 
called on Penn ; their intimacy was renewed. Til- 
lotson did what he could to put an end to false 
report; but they w^hose purposes it served were 
unwilling to be set right, and the rumour not only 
spread more and more, but Tillotson's name was 
still coupled with it. Tillotson thereupon placed 
in his friend's hands a written disavowal, to be 
shown to such as should repeat the slander. It 
was years, however, before Penn heard the last of 
his Jesuitism. 

Penn would gladly have returned to his colony, 
but the King pressed him to remain until an Act 
of Parliament had legally and firmly established 
freedom for thought. Penn's heart was yearning 
for the other world. The repose of the Delaware, 
the rising greatness of Philadelphia, haunted his 
dreams, and mingled with the scenes of his daily 
life. The favour of the King had powerful draw- 
backs, and he longed to escape from the atmos- 
phere of a court into the forests of Pennsylvania. 
232 



AT COURT. 

But a sense of duty kept him in England. By 
speech and writing, by his influence with the great, 
and by his power with Dissenters, he was working 
day and night at his great task. The chief ob- 
stacle was the mutual ignorance and bigotry of 
court and parliament — and he strove to enlighten 
them on the policy of toleration. His ' Persuasive 
to Moderation' is an able and learned history of 
opinion and experiment on the subject. He called 
history to witness — he quoted the wisdom of the 
wise, and the experiences of time, in support of his 
argument. The paper was addressed to the King 
and Council ; and contributed to procure that 
general pardon which emptied the jails of many 
thousands of prisoners —including twelve or thir- 
teen hundred Quakers. Still this act of grace was 
due to the King ; the penal laws remained in force ; 
the sufferers were liable to be seized again. The 
bigots murmured at every fresh pardon, and the 
maintenance of the Test Act became the avowed 
policy of all parties in opposition. The hopes of 
Churchmen were already turning to the Hague; 
and the Prince of Orange, while professing liberal 
sentiments took care to confirm them in their op- 
position to the King. Penn went over to the 
Hague — not in the formal character of an envoy^ 
but so accredited as to satisfy the Prince that he 
spoke by authority — to ascertain his opinions. 
William had taken a fancy to the Tests, and 
though he allowed Penn two audiences he ad- 
hered to his own plans. Penn was instructed to 
make the most liberal proposals if William would 
aid the King to obtain a repeal of the Tests. 
James promised to consult him in everything, 
and to put his friends in the highest places. The 
Prince remained inflexible. He would consent to 
an Act of Toleration, but he would not consent 
283 



LIFE OF WILLIAM J'ENN. 

to a repeal of the Tests — those bulwarks of the 
Church 1 While at the court of Holland Penn 
mixed with the exiles who thronged the streets— 
the old comrades of Sydney and Argyle ; he stud- 
ied their views, and made acquaintance with their 
miseries. With Burnet he had long and frequent 
discuspions ; but the Protestant zeal of the doctor 
was only inflamed by his firm adherence to his old 
opinions. They met with suspicion, Burnet accusing 
Penn of leaning to Popery, Penn accusing Burnet of 
bigotry and intolerance ; and they parted with cold- 
ness and on the Churchman's side with hate. 

Penn's hopes turned more and more towards 
Pennsylvania. There he had secured a home for 
the oppressed. Time, he knew, would make it a 
nation. He would help on the good work as fast 
as he might be able. So having finished his busi- 
ness at the Hague, he went to Amsterdam, where 
he engaged Wilhelm Sewell — an old friend and cor- 
respondent — to translate his accounts of Pennsyl- 
vania into Flemish , and circulate them among the 
able and industrious farmers of the Low Countries. 
He travelled through Holland and into the Rhine- 
land, bearing everywhere the tidings that a land 
of freedom was springing up in the New World, 
where every man enjoyed his full share of political 
power, and every class of opinions was respected. 
To the citizens of the Upper Rhine he could report 
the success of the German colony. At a short dis- 
tance from Philadelphia their countrymen had 
built a town, which in affectionate remembrance 
of the fatherland, they called Germanopolis. It 
rose in a beautiful and fertile district ; on the spot 
were a number of fresh springs; in the vicinity 
were oak, walnut, and chestnut-trees in abun- 
dance ; and the surrounding country was in many 
places favourable to the vine. 
234 



CHAPTEK XXVIT. 

Mediation (1G86-89). 

On Penn's return to London he appealed to the 
King and Council in behalf of the English exiles. 
There were two classes of English in Holland. The 
most numerous was that of political offenders. At 
first Penn tried to obtain a general pardon; but 
the King would not give way so far. To individ- 
ual cases he was open and several pardons were 
obtained from him in his more gracious moods. 
But there were many who had merely fled from 
religious fear; and Penn reminded James that it 
would be in strict accordance with the gracious 
intentions he had formed, to offer these men in- 
demnity and recall. Thus pressed, the King issued 
an order to that effect, and a great number of 
persons, who had not been engaged in treason- 
able acts against the government, returned to 
their homes. The indemnity was traced entirely 
to the influence of Penn ; and the posterity of 
some of the men whom it restored to their coun- 
try cherished for many years a grateful memory 
of his aid. 

The failure of Penn's mission to the Prince of 
Orange hurried matters to a crisis. James, re- 
solved to effect his purpose, not unnaturally, 
though most unwisely, began to lean more and 
more towards his great Catholic neighbour. Penn 
saw the danger of such an alliance more clearly 
than the King, and he counselled James against 
even raising the suspicion of a desire to rely on 
235 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

France. But James was mad. It may be true 
that he had changed his views ; instead of asking 
toleration for the faith which he believed to be 
right, he meant to aim at a complete subversion 
of the Established Church. There is a change of 
tone in the correspondence with Versailles. From 
the probabilities of gaining a Bill of Toleration, 
the discussion assumes the King's aim to be the 
reintroduction of Popery as a state religion. 
James's son-in-law being with his enemies, and 
Parliament being determined to thwart his plans 
tried his right to suspend the whole body of the 
penal laws. With one exception that of Street, 
his judges were of opinion that the King had 
power to suspend these enactments. James was 
not long in making use of his prerogative. On 
the 18th of March, 1687, he called his privy coun- 
cil together :— he told them he intended to use his 
royal right. Experience had shown the uselessness 
of penal laws. They did not prevent new sects 
from springing up. They were a perpetual cause 
of soreness and discontent. It was time to put an 
end to these civil troubles. Conscience was a 
thing not to be forced ; he was resolved to give all 
classes of his people that right of opinion which 
he claimed himself. On the fourth day of April, 
1687. came out his Majesty's gracious Declaration 
to all his loving subjects for Liberty of Conscience. 
By this famous act the King suspended all the 
penal laws agaimst free thought in matters of 
religion and forbade the offer of either test or 
oath to persons taking office under the crown. 

It was a wise and noble measure, most unwisely 
introduced. Locke might have written some of its 
sentences, while others might have been inspired 
by Father Petre. Penn though gladly snatching 
at the boon of freedom, was annoyed that he 
236 



MEDIATION. 

must gain it from prerogative instead of by con- 
sent of Parliament. 

Apart from flaws of origin this Declaration of 
Liberty of Consci'^nce was received with different 
feelings. Whigs and Tories equally disliked it. 
They had not been harried by the magistrates. 
Their brethren were not languishing in jails, and 
ruined by repeated and increasing fines. The laws 
were on their side for they had made these laws 
themselves. To them the King's declaration of 
Liberty was but a declaration of 'Indulgence ;' and 
by this papistical and opprobrious nick-name they 
described it in a hundred pamphlets, sermons, 
squibs, and songs. Dissenters on the other hand, 
were loud in gratitude. Their prison-doors flew 
open. Many of them got into the army, navy, 
and civil service. From persecuted wretches, only 
fit for stocks and jails, they acquired the rights 
and dignities of Englishmen. Some of the more 
wealthy and intelligent were made magistrates and 
sheriffs. Quakers began to take some share in 
public business; at the next yearly m.eeting of 
their body the question was discussed whether 
they should accept or refuse magistracies. All 
Dissenters were elated at the change. The Ana- 
baptists were the first to approach the throne 
with an expression of their thanks; the Quakers 
followed ; then came the Independents, the Presby- 
terians, and the Catholics. Penn was with the 
Quakers, who agreed to waive the ceremony of the 
hat. In Sunderland's apartment the deputation 
uncovered themselves, and leaving their hats be- 
hind, went into the presence bareheaded. Penn 
made a short speech to the King, and then de- 
livered an address from the general body. James 
assured this deputation he had always been of 
opinion that conscience should be free and he ap- 
237 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

pealed to Penn in confirmation of what he told 
them. He should remain firm to his Declaration 
of Liberty ; and he hoped to establish it before he 
died in so regular and legal a manner that future 
ages should have no reason to change it. Penn 
needed this assurance. lie feared the King's vio- 
lent temper not less than the bigotry of Parlia- 
ment. He had no confidence in a freedom resting 
on the will of James; and he inserted in the ad- 
dress a hope that means would be taken to get the 
sanction of both houses to this act. In private 
he was plainer still. He told the King the only 
way to secure confidence and to obtain the sanc- 
tion of Parliament was to act on open and mod- 
erate principles — to banish from his presence the 
Jesuits and ultra-Papists, who surrounded him 
daily at Whitehall. In this way only could free- 
dom be fully given to conscience. If James had 
followed this counsel he might have died on the 
throne of his ancestors, and might have left be- 
hind an honourable reputation amongst our na- 
tive kings. He hesitated — and he fell. 

The Jesuits had obtained commanding influence, 
and the King's true friends began to see that 
their pernicious counsels would bring disaster on 
his head. Against these Jesuits Penn was strain- 
ing every nerve, — often using a boldness of ex- 
postulation which James would not have brooked 
from any other man. Penn told him that neither 
Churchmen nor Dissenters would bear their pride 
and ambition. The nation, he hinted broadly, 
was alarmed but still more indignant. Penn 
wished to see the Whigs taken into greater confi- 
dence and he kept up an irregular intercourse be- 
tween their leaders and the court. He carried 
Trenchard Treby and Lawton to the royal closet, 
where he urged them to speak openly to the King, 
238 



MEDIATION. 

disguising nothing of the state of the nation, but 
placing before him in its true aspect the general 
opinion of his course. James was much im- 
pressed by these discourses. Trenchard was an 
accomplished courtier; he had lived in exile; and 
he owed his restoration to his native land to 
Penn. La\^^on a young man of parts and spirit, 
had attracted Penn's notice. In politics he was a 
state Whig. It was at Lawton's instance that 
Penn had braved the King by asking a pardon 
for Aaron Smith. One day over their wine at 
Popple's house where Penn had carried Lawton 
to dine Penn said to his host: 'I have brought 
you such a man as you never saw before; for I 
have just now asked him how I might do some- 
thing for himself and he has desired me to get 
a pardon for another man ! I will do that if I 
can ; but ' he added turning to Lawton, 'I should 
be glad if thou wilt think of some kindness for 
thyself.' 'Ah' said Lawton, after a moment's 
thought, 'I can tell you how you might indeed 
prolong my life.' 'How so?' asked Penn; 'I am 
no physician.' Lawton answered : 'There is Jack 
Trenchard in exile. If you could get leave for him 
to come home with safety and honour, the drink- 
ing of a bottle .now and then with Jack would 
prolong my life.' The party laughed, and Penn 
promised to do what he could. He went to the 
Lord Chancellor, got him to join in a solicitation, 
and in a few days the future secretary was par- 
doned and allowed to return to England. 

As Trenchard knew the exiles and the opinions 
current in Holland, Penn felt how serviceable he 
might be if James would only listen to his ad- 
vice. Things were so near a change at one mo- 
ment that Penn was actually sent by the King 
to Somers with an offer of the solicitor-general- 
239 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN 

ship ; this was before it'was offered to Sir William 
Williams, and consequently before the trial of the 
seven prelates. 

The next step into which the King was urged 
by his Jesuit friends was an attempt to obtain a 
footing for the members of his own Church in the 
Universities. The right of Catholics, as of all 
other Englishmen, to share in the advantages 
offered by our national seats of learning liberal 
men would now concede — though the right is not 
yet legally admitted. To James it seemed intoler- 
able that descendants of the men who founded 
and endowed the colleges with their worldly goods 
should be excluded from them because they had 
not changed their religion. As the presidency of 
Magdalen College, one of the richest foundations in 
Europe, was vacant, James desired to see it filled 
by one who was not unfriendly to Catholics, and 
he therefore named Antony Farmer for election. 
Farmer was not legally qualified, and was besides 
a man of ill repute. The Fellows of the College 
drew up a petition praying the King to name 
some other person ; through an error this petition 
did not reach his Majesty for several days ; and 
in the meantime, not hearing from Whitehall, the 
Fellows elected John Hough, a man of blameless 
life and moderate abilities, to the chair. Hough 
and Farmer both appealed to the King, — and 
James referred the case to his Ecclesiastical Com- 
missioners, by whom Hough's election was de- 
clared void and Farmer's cause was dropped. Some 
weeks elapsed, that passion might have time to 
cool. When James sent a new mandate ordering 
a fresh election, recommending the bishop of the 
diocese for election, the Fellows would not hear 
of it. The King was angry. In his journey down 
to Bath, he received at Oxford the Heads of 
240 



MEDIATION. 

Colleges; he upbi*aided them in iinkingly terms 
for disobedience; and he threatened to proceed 
against them to extremities unless they instantly 
obeyed. 

There was much need of wise and sober media- 
tion. Penn, who was going through the west 
country on a preaching tour, arrived at Oxford 
with the King on Saturday afternoon, September 
3, and stayed till Monday afternoon, Sej^tember 5. 
He was hardly fifty hours in Oxford ; yet his stay 
was long enough to admit of his being drawn into 
the Magdalen business, and even to his becoming 
a principal in the dispute. 

On Sunday, Mr. Creech, one of the offending 
Fellows, dined with Penn, and told him such a 
tale, that Penn was more than half persuaded to 
adventure in their cause. Being pressed by Creech, 
he offered to see the Fellows in a body, and to 
hear their story. Early on Monday he went over 
to the College. Hough, the selected president, re- 
ceived him. Hunt, Creech, Bailey, and the rest, 
were present, and explained their case ; citing their 
college charter, by the terms of which Antony 
Farmer could not hold the oflBce of president. 
Penn saw that they were right, and that the 
court, in forcing them against the law, was wrong. 
Not satisfied with letting them perceive that he 
was with them in his mind, he offered, then and 
there, to write a letter in their behalf to James. 
They took him at his word, and in their presence 
he composed a letter which they made good speed 
to place in James's hands. Their case, Penn told 
his Majesty, was very hard ; they could not yield 
without an evident violation of their oaths. Such 
mandates, he continued, were a force on conscience, 
and were therefore contrary to the King's pro- 
fession and intention. James could not be moved. 
16 241 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Though Penn left for Oxford on the Monday. 
Hough and hi8 little senate had already come to 
look upon liiin aw their friend. Bailey wTote to 
him aiter he (iiiitted Oxford as one who had been 
so kind as to appear in their behalf already, and 
was reported by all who knew him to employ 
much of his time in doing good, and in using his 
credit with the King to undeceive him of any 
wrong impressions he might entertain. All the 
contemporary accounts are conceived in the same 
spirit. Creech says he appeared in their behalf. 
Sykes is equally emjohatic. Indeed the letter to 
the King would be declive, were there no other 
evidence. That letter emboldened the Fellows to 
draw up a strong petition, which they signed and 
carried to Lord Sunderland, who promised to lay 
it before the King. 

The King refused to listen. Remonstrance and 
entreaty were in vain. Though Penn denounced 
his measures as contrary to his often-avowed sen- 
timents in favour of Liberty of Conscience, and 
Chief Justice Herbert declared them to be against 
the law, be would not retreat. He professed to 
believe it impossible for Oxford men to oppose 
the royal will. A sincere bigot himself and scru- 
pulously truthful in his words, he could not imag- 
ine, after a declaration of unlimited obedience 
had been promulgated by the University, that the 
members of a single college would dare to appeal 
from their own dogma to the free instincts of na- 
ture. 'If you are really Church-of-England men ' 
he said to the deputation, 'prove it by your obe- 
dience.' 

Magdalen had still much need of I'enn's ser- 
vices ; and to secure his mediation in their cause. 
Hough, Hunt, Cradock, and some other Fellows 
were deputed to wait on him at Windsor, where 
242 



MEDIATION. 

he lodged. They found him ready to receive them 
and to hear their story. He expressed his great 
concern for the welfare of the college and said ht- 
had made many efforts to reconcile the King to 
what had passed. He grieved that things had 
gone so far before he was aware of the dispute; 
in an earlier stage — before the King's self-love had 
b3en wounded — the affair would have been easy to 
arrange. Still he would do his best ; and if he 
failed, it would not be for want of will to serve 
their cause. He broached the doubts which had 
occurred to him ; the Fellows answered one by one ; 
and after much talk with them, he said his first 
impressions gained at Oxford were confirmed. He 
felt that they were in the right. Before the Oxford 
Fellows saw him, they were afraid that he would 
make some offer at accommodation ; but though 
he wished the quarrel ended, he would not insult 
them by advising them to yield. Once he asked 
the Fellows, smiling, how they would like to see 
Hough made Bishop. Cradock replied in the same 
vein of pleasantry— they would be very glad as 
the presidency and bishopric would go well enough 
together. Hough answered (as he says), 'seri- 
ously ;' and the allusion dropped. Possessed with 
the fixed idea that James intended to rob them of 
their college, the Fellows said the Papists had al- 
ready wrested from them Christ Church and Uni- 
versity ; the contest was now for Magdalen. This 
touched Penn nearly ; he had wTitten much against 
Catholic doctrine ; and he answered them with fer- 
vour—That they shall never ha^e. The Fellows, 
he said, might be assured. The Catholics had got 
two colleges; to them he did not dispute their 
right; but he could confide in their prudence. 
Honest men would defend their just claims ; but 
tihould they go beyond their common rights as 
243 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Englishmen, and ask from royal favour what was 
not their due, they would peril all they had ac- 
quired. He felt sure they would not be so 
senseless. At the same time he told his visitors 
that he thought it unfair and unwise in them to 
attempt to clof-e the national Universities to 
any class; others besides Churchmen wished to 
give their children a learned education. To this 
free counsel Hough— a very high Churchman 
—made demur. Peun ceased to urge this point. 
Though he could not well agree with their politics, 
he said he w^as willing to be of use to them. 
Hough suggested that he could promote their in- 
terests by laying a true statement of the case be- 
fore their sovereign. They produced some papers, 
which he read ; these papers he promised to read 
again to the King, unless peremptorily forbidden. 
And so the deputation left him. 

James was not to be stirred from his purpose. 
A commission was sent do\\Ti to Oxford, and the 
uncompromisingchampions of Church prerogative 
were all ejected from the college. Yet they lost 
little by their temporary removal. His self-love 
being gratified, the King soon afterwards restored 
the Fellows to their honours and emoluments; 
and after the revolution Hough was rewarded for 
his resistance with a bisphoric. 

Affairs were now hastening to a crisis. When 
Dissenters and Commonwealth-men were the only 
parties likely to fall under the frowns of author- 
ity, Oxford could issue precepts of unconditional 
obedience ; but when its own rights and privileges 
were placed in peril, it was the first and the most 
obstinate in resisting. A cynic would have smiled 
at this conversion ; but Penn remembered how that 
precept had clouded the last days of Sydney and 
he longed to break away from a scene so full of cor- 
244 



MEDIATION. 

ruption to the freedom of his own virgin forests. 
In the very height of his courtly greatness, he 
wrote to his friends in Philadelphia. ' The Lord 
only.' he said 'knew the sorrow the expense, the 
hazard of his absence, from the colony;' but his 
prayers were poured out fervently and with a 
prostrate soul to Him for aid to return to that 
beloved country where he was anxious to live and 
die. The King entreated him to stay in England. 
He declared himself resolved to establish toleration 
and to abolish the Test Act ; in which good work, 
he said, he should have to rely on Penn's help 
and counsel. Though his own affairs were getting 
daily more and more confused by his absence 
from Pennsylvania . Penn could not desert the 
headstrong reformer in his hour of need. 

Not satisfied with private mediation, such as he 
had exerted in the Oxford affair he took up his 
pen and wrote the elaborate pamphlet ' Good Ad- 
vice to the Church of England the Roman Catho- 
lic and Protestant Dissenters'— in which he showed 
the wisdom and policy as well as Christian duty, 
of repealing the Test Act and all other laws 
against opinion. He admitted frankly as he had 
done to the Magdalen delegates that if he had to 
choose a state church he would prefer the one 
that was by law established to either a Catholic, 
a Presbyterian or any other. But he rejected the 
idea of a supreme and intolerant church. Opin- 
ion ought to be free ; though at the same time he 
thought a proper respect should be paid by small 
bodies of sectaries to the national feeling. 
Therefore he urged the Catholics, seeing how few 
they were and how powerful the feeling was 
against them to be content \^^th toleration. His 
fear was that the King under ill advice would 
take some dangerous step against the Church, 
245 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

and ruin all. To counteract the rashness of James's 
temper he procured letters from influential per- 
sons, which he read to him in private, without 
telling him from whom they came. He took \\ith 
him several Churchmen to the royal closet, to un- 
deceive the King, as to that passive obedience on 
which he counted for impunity in his attacks, 
but James would not believe ; he knew the spirit 
of the English Church ; for had not Oxford pledged 
the body to observe obedience to the royal will, 
as though it were the voice of God? Lawi:on al- 
most laughed in the King's face. 'What.' he said, 
'does any man live up to the doctrines he pro- 
fesses? The Churchmen may believe that resist- 
ance is a sin ; but they believe that swearing and 
drunkenness are sins also — ^yet many of them drink 
very hard and swear very often.' 'Hal' replied 
James, smiling disdainfully, 'you don't know the 
loyalty of the Church as well as I do,'— and the 
bold expostulator bowed his head. 

In April (1688) James renewed the Declaration 
of Liberty of Conscience; and commanded all his 
clergy to read this document in their churches. 
Penn was much alarmed. He thought the King- 
was mad. To force the clergy was to violate that 
very Liberty of Conscience which the King con- 
ferred upon his people. Many of the Churchmen 
could not in their consciences comply with such an 
order. Penn entreated James to pause ; to let the 
Declaration make its way in peace; to summon 
parliament, and get this liberty secured by law. 
The King soon found that Penn was right; his 
clergy, though professing blind obedience to his 
will, would not allow his edict to be read : and 
James, on the suggestion of Jeffreys, sent the 
seven Bishops who had signed the paper of remon- 
strance and refusal to the Tower. 
246 



MEDIATION. 

By word and act, Penn strove to save these 
prelates from arrest, and after their commitment 
to the Tower, he strained his utmost power with 
James to get a pardon and release for them. 
When baby James the Prince of Wales, was born 
Penn waited on the King and pressed him very 
warmly to perform an act of royal grace. ' On 
such a happy day,' said Penn. 'everybody ought 
to rejoice, and everybody would rejoice, if the 
Bishops were let out and it was known that a 
general pardon would be issued soon.' He there- 
fore urged the King to send his order for Sir Ed- 
ward Hales, Lieutenant of the Tower, to set his 
prisoners free; and also to let the public under- 
stand that a council would be cabled, and a gen- 
eral pardon issued as soon as it could pass the 
Seal. 

More intimate advisers swayed the royal mind ; 
and long before the parliament was to meet, the 
King was housed on foreign soil. 



247 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

In the Shade (1688-91). 

The King's flight became the signal for a rush. 
The tools, the favourites the friends the ministers 
of James, thought proper to retire from public 
notice. Curious were the means of escape and 
ludicrous the incidents attending it. The redoubt- 
able Jeffreys tried to escape in the dress of a com- 
mon sailor ; the subtle and intriguing Sunderland 
quitted his country in his wife's cap and petticoat. 
Of the men who had been near the throne for the 
last three years and a half. Penn was almost the 
only one who remained in London. Kno\\dng no 
offence, he turned a deaf ear to every entreaty of 
his friends to fly. They urged— that he had been 
too intimate with the King to escape suspicion, 
and that if he would not follow James he had 
a refuge open to him in America, where he might 
remain in peace until the heat of party vengeance 
passed away. He would not change his course. 
He would not change his lodgings ; he would not 
keep in the shade. The Council who assumed the 
management of affairs sent to him as he was 
taking his usual walk and being told that they 
were sitting he at once obeyed the summons to 
attend. He told them that he loved his country 
and the Protectant faith and had ever done his 
best to serve them. James he said had been his 
friend, and his father's friend, and therefore 
though he no longer owed him allegiance as a sub- 
ject, he retained for him the old respect which he 
had paid him as a man. He had done nothing. 
248 



IX THE SHADE. 

and Bhoiikl do iiotliiug. but what he was willing 
to answer before God and his country. 

The Lords were at a loss. They could not free 
a friend of James without approval from the Prince 
of Orange, They got over their difficulty by tak- 
ing security in 6000/. for Penn's appearance in the 
following term to answer any charge which might 
be brought against him. With a threat of prose- 
cution hanging above his head, he was permitted 
to remain at large. He went to ^Yorminghurst, 
and watched the drama from his eyrie in the 
Sussex downs. 

Penn was not long left in peace. Fresh causes 
of suspicion rose ; spies and informers dogged his 
footsteps ; he was said to be rich, and there were 
many about the court wiio wanted money. At 
the end of February the Lords in Council issued 
warrants for his arrest. But Penn was made 
aware of these new accusations of the witnesses 
whose evidence was to be taken and he declined 
to surrender himself till Easter term. But not to 
sanction malicious reports by flight he wrote to 
Shrewsbury, to say that he was living at his 
country-house attending to his private affairs and 
the concerns of his colony; that he did not feel 
justified in giving himself up an unbailable pris- 
oner ; that he was already bound over to appear 
on the first day of term ; that he could affirm, 
without reserve or equivocation, his entire igno- 
rance of any new^ plot or conspiracy against the 
government. ^Yilliam acceded to his request to be 
allowed to remain in the country till his day of 
trial. By Easter term (1689) men's minds were 
calmer; and when Penn appeared in court to de- 
fend himself, not one of his accusers dared to con- 
front him. Not a whisper was uttered of his being 
a Jesuit. No man accused him of any wrong. The 
249 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

magistrate declared that nothing had been proved 
against him. He was free. 

Though free in person, he had reason to be anx- 
ious for his province. William had desired the 
crown in order to provide the means of waging 
war on France. His hope by day. his dream by 
night, was war; a coalition of the Protestant 
powers ; a declaration against Louis ; a victorious 
march on Paris. War with France as Penn well 
knew, however glorious to the arms of William, 
might be ruin to his province. War in Flanders 
and Brabant meant fire and sword in Canada, 
Pennsylvania and New York. A march of Eng- 
lish infantry towards the Sambre and the Meuse 
might bring a horde of savages to the Susquehan- 
nah and the Delaware. How could the colony of 
peace, the city of fraternal love, be saved? As yet, 
this war was in the future, and the wisest men 
were puzzled as to where it might begin. Some 
thought it would begin on English soil. King 
James was ready to return. A vast majority of 
his Scotch and Irish subjects would have hailed him 
with delight, and even in the English shires opin- 
ions were so nicely balanced that observers who 
had no desire to see him feared that he had only 
to appear in order to regain what he had lost. 

Amidst these doubts Penn found some comfort 
in the fact that William stood by the principles he 
had published at the Hague. 

At the risk of giving ground of offence to the 
Church party, William pressed for an Act of Tol- 
eration for Dissenters and even declared it neces- 
sary to afford protection to the Papists. Though 
his temper was not merciful, he was a politic 
prince. He knew what power the position he 
aimed to acquire as protector-general of Protes- 
tants from the fiords of Norway to the Theiss, 
250 



IN THE SHADE. 

would give him in the councils of Europe ; and he 
naturally asked himself with what effect he could 
interfere in behalf of Finn and Magyar, if he gave 
the Catholic at home a just cause of complaint? 
Even before his election to the throne he had en- 
tered into treaties with the Emperor and the 
Pope. 

Penn was gratified with the results, though they 
fell short of his desires. The new Act disarmed 
the petty tyrant. It opened the prison-doors to 
crowds of Quakers. He hoped it would gradually 
lead to a still more liberal and enlightened policy, 
as the dominant parties became aware how great 
an accession of strength it would bring to the na- 
tion. But he had little time to indulge in these 
reflections. He had little time to dream his dreams 
of a coming golden age. The King had hardly 
left for Ireland, where the war was burning fierce- 
ly, ere he found his name denounced in public and 
a proclamation issued for his arrest. This ban 
was issued on the twenty-fourth of June. Penn 
was lying on a sick-bed; ill of a surfeit and 
relapse; and six weeks passed before he could 
move a foot or even hold a pen. So soon as he 
could stir, he wrote a letter to Daniel Finch, Earl 
of Nottingham, in which he said, 'Since the gov- 
ernment does not think fit to trust me, 1 shall 
trust it. . . . and therefore 1 humbly beg to know 
when and where I shall wait upon thee.' Notting- 
ham, a very honest man, a friend of Toleration, 
was the King's Secretary of State. Fifteen days 
later Penn was brought before the Council and 
discharged ; there being no evidence of any serious 
kind against him. Three weeks afterwards the 
King returned from Ireland to renew with higher 
zest the war with France. 

When war was once begun, the King perceived 
251 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

how much his power of making front against the 
French in Canada would be strengthened if the 
full control of all the Colonies from Charleston 
to Boston were vested in his crowTi. ^'ast deserts 
had been signed away ; these deserts were becom- 
ing states ; and William saw how much they might 
assist him in his wars. A little had been done 
already. When the charters were revised by James, 
some articles had been amended in a royal sense. 
The charter of New England had suffered much. 
A good excuse was offered in the state of public 
feeling in the Colonies for robbing them of rights 
they dearly prized. Not one of these Colonies had 
been warm in W'illiam's cause. In Maryland and 
in Virginia the people were either Catholics or 
Cavaliers. In Pennsylvania they were either Qua- 
kers loving peace, or Swedes or French who felt no 
passion for the strife. Lord Baltimore delayed 
his proclamation of the new reign and there were 
serious thoughts of strijjping him of his Colonial 
crown; but for the moment William held his hand, 
not liking to disturb existing order in the midst 
of actual war. 

Penn was anxious to go out. He had been 
several times arrested ; his life to say nothing of 
his freedom was no longer safe. No accusation 
was too monstrous not to find some people who. 
from either hatred or self-interest were willing to 
give it credit. Affairs were going wrong in his 
province. New York, exposed to the French was 
egging on the people of New England to attack 
New France. Meetings were being held to organ- 
ise defence; the Colonists were calling on each 
other; here for money tliere for men. The Puri- 
tans of New England buckled to their sides the 
swords which their fathers had worn at Naseby 
and Marston Moor ; and a warlike ardour which 
252 



IN THE SHADE. 

was gladdening the stern and martial soul of 
William spread from ]\Jassaehussetts to the Caro- 
linas. The Quakers alone were calm. Amidst this 
martial preparation they declared they had no 
quarrel with the French, and would not fight. If 
French and Indians came against them they would 
go out to meet them unarmed, and tell them so. 

What could William do? The Pennsylvanians 
would neither defend their own tow^ls nor pay a 
war-tax to the frontier governments of Albany 
and New York. Penn took a more practical view 
of the crisis. His colony contained others besides 
Quakers —Germans Dutchmen, Swedes, and I^ng- 
lish —who would shoulder a musket and draw a 
sword in defence of their homes. These men had 
no thought of giving up their goods to the Ca- 
nadians, their scalps to the Iroquois; and the pa- 
cific disposition of the Quaker majority only ad- 
ded zeal to the obtrusive energy of the young and 
unconvinced. A war party was gaining ground 
in the colony. Penn felt how necessary it was 
that he should be on the spot to appease these 
scruples, and to regulate this rising heat. Eng- 
land had no further need of him. His residence 
had cost him six thousand pounds— the greater 
part of which he had given away in charities, in 
jailors' fees and in legal expenses attendant on 
the liberation of prisoners. Preparations for his 
departure were hastily made; a vessel was en- 
gaged to carry him across the Atlantic ; the Sec- 
retary of State appointed a convoy to protect 
him on his outward voyage. 

WTien he was ready to start he was suddenly 
called to the death-bed of George Fox —whose 
decease took place on the 13th of January. 1691. 
Over his old friend's grave at Bunhill Fields. Penn 
delivered a long oration. Three weeks after this 
253 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

ceremony warrants were issued by the Council to 
arrest him on a charge of treason. 

Penn was tiring of these daily warrants of ar- 
rest and this time took no pains to help his ene- 
mies in their search. He ceased to run about the 
streets, to preach in public, and to court the gen- 
eral gaze. His wife was very ill. and Springett, 
his elder son not strong. His family remained at 
Worminghurst on the Sussex down where he was 
often with them when the eyes of neighbouring 
justices of the peace were shut. But he was neither 
in disguise nor hiding. Though he stayed in 
London mostly, he lived in his own house, en- 
gaged in writing books. 'I know my enemies.' he 
wrote, ' their true character and history, and their 
intrinsic value to either this or any other govern- 
ment. I commit them to time, with my own con- 
duct and afflictions.' He was well aware how 
much a man must pay for leave to do good, but 
he was ready to pay out that price. 



254 



CHAPTER XXX 

A House of Dole (1692-94). 

When. Penn was under cloud, and driven away, 
the Council made quick work of his American 
affairs. Their object was to bring- his province 
under more direct control, and on the tenth of 
March, 1692 an Order in Council took away his 
government, and placed it in commission with a 
view to joining Pennsylvania with New York. So 
far as King William meddled, the question was de- 
cided on military grounds. Colonel Fletcher was 
the governor of New York, and William wished to 
strengthen Fletcher, who was menaced by the 
French. No case was urged against the rule of 
Penn, except that it was one of peace. No lack 
of faith or loyalty was proved against him. Will- 
iam felt that during war the city of fraternal 
love must be defended from the French and Iro- 
quois, then hovering on the frontier, by a rougher 
arm than Penn s. and he desired his Council to 
prepare the draft of a commission for his signa- 
ture, uniting in a single hand the governments 
of Pennsylvania, Delaware, the two Jerseys, New 
York, and Connecticut. 

To Penn this blow was crushing. Nearly all his 
fortune had been sunk in Pennsylvania; he had 
paid all costs of governing from his private purse. 
His means were pinched on every side, nor could 
he tell which way to turn for help. His timber 
had been cut and sold ; his Irish lands were ruined 
by the war ; and Shangarry Castle was sequestered 
by the cro\\Ti. His rents were stopped. Guli was 
worse; and Springett, his intelligent and hand- 
255 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEXN. 

some boy, was entering on that stage of slow de- 
cline which led him to an early grave. His second 
son. in whom the blood of Admiral Penn was 
strong, required a father's care : for in his moth- 
er's weakness he was apt to run into excess. The 
Fords, too, were begining to display their teeth, 
though with a cat-like smoothness and a cat-like 
patience. 

Penn was much in London, where the council 
were not eager to molest him though the war- 
rants were allowed to stand. ' God seeth in secret, 
and will one day reward openly.' he wTote : 'my 
privacy is not because men have sworn truly, but 
falsely, against me; for wicked men have laid in 
wait for me and false witnesses have laid to my 
charge things that I knew not.' With whom he 
lived in these dark days is nowhere told. Not 
feeling safe at Worminghurst he was compelled to 
move from jplace to place, and leave his sickly 
wife and drooping child unseen for weeks, except 
by stealth at dead of night and in the houses of 
their friends where wife and son could come to 
him unseen. We know that he was busy with his 
pen. For not to count such trifles as a ' Preface 
to Barclay's Works,' and a second ' Preface to 
Burnyeat's Works ' six pieces of importance came 
from him in his retirement. ' The New Athenian,' 
' Just Measures ' and ' A Key Opening the Way.' 
are three polemical discourses. ' A Brief account 
of the People called Quakers. ' is a picture of his 
sect, as he conceived that body in his mind. 'Some 
Fruits of Solitude : reflections and maxims relating 
to the conduct of human life ' takes in a larger 
field ; and ' An Essay toward the present Peace' is 
one of those fine efforts of his pen. which help us 
to understand how a disciple of George Fox could 
have been the intellectual friend of John Locke. 
256 



A HOUSE OF DOLE. 

Speaking of himself in the preface of 'Some 
Fruits of Solitude, 'he says— he 'has now had some 
time he could call his own, a property he has ever 
before been short of in which he has taken a view 
of himself and of the world, observed wherein he 
has gone wrong or wasted good effort, and has 
come to the conclusion that if he had to live his 
life OA^er again, he could serve God, his neighbour, 
and himself, better than he had done, and have 
seven precious years of time to spare, though he 
was not an old man yet and had certainly not 
been one of the idlest.' Specimens of his maxims 
will suffice to show the character of the whole col- 
lection.— 'We are in pain to make our children 
scholars— not men ; to talk rather than to know. 
This is true canting.'—' They only have a right to 
censure who haA^e a heart to help : the rest is 
cruelty, not justice.' — 'Love labour: if thou dost 
not want it for food thou \n\t for physic' 'To 
delay justice is injustice.' — 'The truest end of life 
is to find the life that never ends.'— 'To do evil 
that good may come of it, is bungling in politics 
as well as in morals.' Many of his maxims are 
political ' Ministers of state should undertake their 
posts at their peril; if princes wish to override 
them let them show the laws — and resign : if fear, 
gain OP flattery prevail, let them answer for it to 
the law.' 

His second work is more original in form and 
substance. In ' An Essay towards the present and 
future Peace of Europe,' he inquires into the pol- 
ity of nations.— the causes which lead to war.— the 
conditions necessary to peace. He finds that the 
great aim of statesmanship is to secure peace and 
order; and he demonstrates that these ends are 
to be obtained more readily and certainly by jus- 
tice than by war. But the question then occurs 
17 257 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

— How can justice be obtained for nations except 
by force? He reviews the history of society, and 
finds that in early times individuals stood in the 
place of states ; every man assumed the right to 
be a judge in his own cause — every man claimed 
to be his own avenger. As society advanced from 
a ruder to a more civilized form, the individuals 
bound themselves to submit to general restric- 
tions : to give up the old right of judging and 
avenging their own quarrels for the public good. 
Why then should not Europeans do for themselves, 
that which Celts and Teutons, Franks and Scan- 
dinavians, have already done on a smaller scale. 
As England has its Parliament, France its States- 
General, Germany its Diet — each in its sphere over- 
ruling private passion, — he proposes that Europe 
shall have her Congress. Before this sovereign 
council he would have disputes of nation and 
nation heard ; and its decisions carried out by the 
united power of Europe. He refers to Henri Quatre 
and his League of Peace, and proves from the 
United Provinces that peace might easily be kept 
if kings and statesmen would but try. 

These dreams were all connected with his great 
Experiment, 

Colonel Fletcher, a mere soldier, coarse, abrupt, 
unlettered , was a stranger to his ideas and inten- 
tions ; and there was only too much reason to 
fear that he would overturn that peaceful and 
poi)ular constitution which had been framed with 
so much thought. Penn never doubted that in 
the end he should be able to regain his colony, 
and continue, under happier auspices, his great 
Experiment ; but he also saw that mischief done 
in a day might require years of patient govern- 
ment to retrieve. He therefore wrote a letter to 
the newly appointed officer in which he warned 
258 



A HOUSE OF DOLE. 

him to tread softly and with caution— as the soil 
and the government belonged to him as much as 
his crown belonged to the King. His charter, he 
said, had been neither attacked not recalled ; in 
the face of the law he was still master of his prov- 
ince; and as he was an Englishman, he would 
maintain his right. 

To his friends and to the oflBcers of his govern- 
ment in Philadelphia, he wrote, advising them to 
insist v\dth moderation on their charters. He told 
them to hear patiently ; to obey the crown when- 
ever it spoke in the voice of law; to meet asser- 
tions that the French and Indians would attack 
them not by quoting their own notions of war 
and the fi-iendly relations of the Iroquois — vain ar- 
guments to such a man as Fletcher— but by show- 
ing how well their territory was defended by na- 
ture, being equally unassailable by land and sea. 

Fletcher began his reign by an attempt to abro- 
gate the whole body of the colonial laws. Him- 
self an ultra-Royalist, the laws of Pennsylvania 
violated all his notions of propriety. When the 
Assembly objected to this sweeping measure, he 
showed them his commission under the great seal 
of England. In reply, they pointed to their char- 
ter, also under the great seal of England ; and 
some of those who held commissions from the pro- 
prietor at once withdrew from the Assembly. Be- 
fore Fletcher went to Philadelphia he had written 
for supplies : the Quakers had returned for answer, 
they had nothing to send him. except their good 
wishes. A'exed at their obstinacy, he repaired to 
the seat of government and asked them for a sub- 
sidy. The Assembly answered with a list of griev- 
ances. No terms could be made ; they would not 
give up a single law. Fletcher felt himself com- 
mitted; and to save his honour^ he proposed to 
259 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

re-enact the code as it then stood. The Assembly 
would not consent. 'We are but men who repre- 
sent the people,' said John White, 'we dare not 
begin to re-enact any one of the laws, lest we seem 
to admit that all the rest are void.' Fletcher was 
in a mess. His object was to obtain a vote of 
money; and the colonists would only give it on 
their own conditions. At last he submitted. On 
receiving from him a distinct recognition of their 
legislative powers, the Assembly granted him a 
penny in the pound, — stipulating as a salve to 
tender consciences, that not a farthing of it 
should be dipt in blood. A permanent advan- 
tage remained with the chamber at the close 
of this dispute ; they had bought the right to 
originate bills ; and this right they ever after- 
wards maintained. Dissatisfied with his new com- 
mand, Fletcher wrote a letter to the King, urging, 
in the strongest terms, the impossibility of gaining 
a regular war-vote in Pennsylvania, and praying 
his Majesty to consider the propriety of form- 
ing that colony, New York, the Jerseys, and Con- 
necticut, into one state, with a general assembly, 
as the only means of outvoting the Quakers and 
compelling them to lend their aid in the common 
defence. The King's displeasure fell on Penn ; and 
the Privy Council went so far as to order the 
Attorney-general to inspect his patent and see if 
some legal flaw could not be found in it. 

In the latter part of the year 1692, Rochester, 
Somers, Henry Sydney, and Sir John Trenchard, 
made an effort to put an end to the shame of see- 
ing Penn deprived of his liberty. Ranelagh. Roch- 
ester and Romney, went to the King and laid 
the whole case before him. William answered that 
Penn was his old acquaintance as well as theirs; 
that he had nothing to say against him ; that he 
260 



A HOUSE OF DOLE. 

was at liberty to go about his affairs just as he 
pleased. The Lords pressed his Majesty to send 
this message to Sir John Trenchard, principal Sec- 
retary of State, and Roniney was selected as its 
bearer on account of his intimacy with Penn. 
Trenchard was glad to convey these tidings to his 
old benefactor ; he spoke with feeling of the un- 
solicited kindness he had received from Penn in the 
dark times of Monmouth and Sydney; and was 
pleased to have it in his power to show that he 
was not ungrateful. Penn was not content that 
the matter should end in this private way. The 
act of grace looked like a pardon : — he wanted an 
acquittal. He asked his friends to get him a pub- 
lic hearing ; and in November a council was called 
at Westminster, before which he defended his con- 
duct so completely to the King's satisfaction, that 
he was absolved from every charge. 

Guli's health was now completely breaking. She 
had never been herself again since Penn was forced 
to quit his home. She followed him into his hid- 
ing-places; she and Springett, now a bright and 
gentle child, too grave and learned for his years, 
and with a wan and hectic face. Her troubles bore 
her down. At Hoddesden, where they found a 
sheltering roof, she drooped and died ; the ' one of 
ten thousand, the wise, chaste, humble, modest, 
constant and undaunted' daughter of Sir William 
Springett ; died in exile, as it were, away from all 
the comforts of her home. Her end was very sweet, 
and she was laid among the grassy mounds at 
Jordans, near the lovely village where she first set 
maiden eyes on William Penn. 

Nothing could arouse her husband from his sor- 
rows till he heard that Colonel Fletcher was pro- 
posing to abolish the separate charter of Pennsyl- 
vania, and to form one government out of all the 
2G1 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

northern colonies. William was inclined to Fletch- 
er's policy; for France, victorious on the conti- 
tinent, was menacing America ; the Governor of 
New York would not answer for his province ; and 
the King was but too glad of any plea for 
strengthening his military powers. Penn thought 
that if he were in America, his presence might rec- 
oncile parties now at variance, and put an end 
to dangerous complaints. But where could he ob- 
tain the funds? The woods at Worminghurst 
were sadly thinned ; two thousand pounds of tim- 
ber having been already cut. Owner of twenty 
million acres of land, he could not raise a few 
hundred pounds. The Irish property had ceased 
to yield him rent ; and his unfaithful stewards, the 
Fords, pretended they could hardly make his Eng- 
lish income meet his outgo. In the depth of his 
distress a thought occurred to him :— he had spent 
a fortune on his colony ; on the million acres sold 
there was a quit-rent, which, for ease of the colo- 
nists, he had allowed to stand over; and for ten 
years he had not received a shilling of his due. 
Why not apply to these prosperous settlers in the 
land he had made for them, — recently blessed with 
abundant seasons,- for a loan of ten thousand 
pounds— a hundred pounds each from a hundred 
persons? This amount would set him right; the 
quit-rents and the lands would be security to the 
lenders. To an old friend, Robert Turner, he 
opened his heart, and made proposals, pledging 
himself, in the event of its success, to sail imme- 
diately with a party of emigrants, who were only 
waiting for a signal ; if they refused him this kind- 
ness, he knew not where to turn. Then came the 
old, sad story once again. The men to whom he 
looked for help— to whom in confidence he laid 
bare his wants— sought in his distress an oppor- 
262 



A HOUSE OF DOLE. 

tunity to encroach on his just rights. They said 
they loved him much— but still they had no mind 
to lend. 

Unable to get help from America, Penn resolved 
to fight his battle to the end at home. Calling on 
the friends who had recently done him service, he 
prevailed on them to take his case once more in 
hand ; if possible, to procure the restoration of his 
colonial government, with the rank and dignities 
attached to it by Charles. King William being 
abroad, he drew up a petition to the Queen, pray- 
ing her Majesty to order an inquiry into the whole 
train of facts alleged by him, and if her Majesty 
was satisfied, to grant him a re-instatement of his 
rights. 

Mary received this petition with favour. Lady 
Ranelagh had prepared her mind. Mary referred 
his petition to the Council, who consulted the 
Board of Trade and the law officers of the crown ; 
and finding no legal flaw in the charter itself, nor 
any subsequent act to warrant forfeiture, she ad- 
mitted his claims to be made out. The Lords of 
Trade and Plantations asserted, — as they were 
bound to do in dealing as statesmen with a case 
so peculiar and exceptional, — that although the 
soil and the government belonged to Penn, as lord 
proprietor under the great seal, the King's gov- 
ernment, still retaining its imperial right, was laid 
under the necessity of defending the province from 
its enemies as part and parcel of the empire ; but 
that so soon as war was finished in Europe, and 
fear of invasion had subsided in Canada, the 
government must devolve on Penn as owner of 
the soil. The Five Nations, long in amity with 
the English, had been won over to the Canadian 
interest; numerous farms had been sacked and 
burnt in Albany; settlers had been either massa- 
263 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

cred or carried off; and it was feared that the 
friendly Lenni Lenape would be compelled to join 
the great confederacy of their tribes. In this event, 
the forests of Pennsylvania would afford no protec- 
tion to the unarmed towns and villages scattered 
over the country ; and devoted as he was to peace, 
Penn saw the folly of maintaining a passive atti- 
tude under a tomahawk and a scalping-knife. He 
promised the Council that as early as convenient 
he would repair to the colony in person; and in 
the meantime he undertook to supply money and 
men for the general defence. Markham was a sol- 
dier; there were men in the province who felt no 
scruple at bearing arms ; and Penn had little fear 
of raising any contingent that the crown might 
fix. In case he met with opposition from the As- 
sembly, he stipulated that he would then surren- 
der the direction of affairs entirely to the King. 

On the ninth of August, 1694 — thirty months 
after the appointment of Colonel Fletcher — an Or- 
der in Council was made, restoring Penn to his 
government, revoking the military commission, 
and appointing eighty men and their complete 
equipment and charges as the contingent of Penn- 
sylvania, to be maintained on either the frontiers 
or at New York, so long as war should last. 



264 



CHAPTER XXXI. 
Laxd ofPkomise (1694-99). 

With Guli dead and Springett dying. Penn was 
not in case to go in person to Philadelphia, and 
he therefore sent out a new commission to Col- 
onel Markham as his deputy-governor. King 
William gave his sanction to this act. 

Six years elapsed after the restitution of his 
charter ere he could set his foot again in the Prom- 
ised Land. Two years he acted as a nurse to his 
dying boy ; his almost constant companion by day 
and night. Everything that tender nurture pa- 
rental watchfulness, and medical skill could do for 
him, was done. In spite of all, the youth grew 
worse and worse;— and fell asleep in his father's 
arms on the 2nd of April, 1696, in the twenty-first 
year of his age. Penn's other children still Hving 
— Mary and Hannah having died in infancy — were 
Letitia and William; the latter now his heir, and, 
as it seemed, the future lord proprietor of Penn- 
sylvania. Springett had the virtues as well as the 
names of his joint ancestry ; to his father's strong 
sense of political liberty, his fervour and devotion 
to a great cause, he added the grace and gen- 
tleness of his mother and grandmother. Of all 
the young people about her in her old age. he had 
been the favourite of Lady Springett : and it was 
for his use and instruction that she committed the 
memoirs of her early life to WTiting, But the 
younger boy was like his grandfather the Admi- 
ral ; bold and self-willed ; quick in quarrel ; full of 
pride and worldly ambition ; sensuous in his tastes 
and scornful in his words. Yet he, too, had fine 
265 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

qualities :— he was generous even to a fault; he 
had a keen sense of honour ; he had a turn and ca- 
pacity for business; and he had in a high degree 
the courage of his race. From an early period he 
had shown dislike of the simple routine of his 
father's house; and sought in the world illicit 
pleasures which he could not find at home. Wild 
blood came out. He would have liked the old 
romps of his grandmother. Lady Penn, at the 
Navy Gardens, and would have joined with pleas- 
ure in the Admiral's suppers at the Three Cranes. 
With anxious feeling Penn looked forward to the 
day when he might have to yield the government 
of his colony to this rash and jovial youth. 

Penn meant to settle in America, among the 
people he had planted in the Promised Land. To 
this end he must have a mother to his children 
and a keeper to his house. He fixed his eyes on 
Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill of Bris- 
tol, a lady he had known for many years. Han- 
nah accepted him with the understanding that 
their future home was to be at Pennsbury on the 
Delaware; and they were married in the city of 
Bristol in January, 1696. She was a woman of 
spirit, and made him an admirable manager and 
wife. They had issue, four sons — Dennis, Richard, 
Thomas, and John — and two daughters — Marga- 
ret and Hannah, the latter of whom died in in- 
fancy. It is from Thomas Penn that the present 
representatives of Penn descend. 

With the peace of Ryswick the war ceased in 
America. As Markham discharged his function of 
lieutenant-governor with vigour, wisdom, and suc- 
cess. Penn lived in England with his young wife 
and her young children, varying the routine of his 
life by making religious tours and writing various 
works. His daughter Lettie, now growing up to 
266 



LAND OF PROMISE. 

womanhood, was not inclined to go; uor was 
Hannah in a hurry to depart. The news which 
came with every post from the seat of government 
were not of a nature to overcome their feminine 
objections. Colonel Quarry, a revenue-officer, sent 
out to America by the crown, and a party to the 
policy of turning the proprietorial into imperial 
colonies, found out and courted every person of 
influence in the colony who fancied he had griev- 
ances; and of the information procured from these 
sources he made the most adroit and malicious 
use in his correspondence with the Board of Trade. 
He kept up intimate relations with the leaders of 
opposition, and by his rank and office gave im- 
portance to the local discontent. 

When Sydney had counselled Penn to leave all 
power under his Charter of Liberties in the peo- 
ple's hands, — even power to resist the Governor 
and annul the Constitution,— he had himself but 
just returned from exile, and w^as suffering from 
the spite and jealousy of a court. Neither Penn 
nor Sydney had foreseen that, under the form in 
which they were about to try their great Experi- 
ment, two powers would be in presence, — proba- 
bly in conflict. Republican as it was, the Charter 
had a foreign element in its author. Tow^ards the 
settlers in his province, Penn w^as a feudal lord : — 
the soil and government w-ere his. Though he had 
given up many of his rights, enough remained to 
create strife and bitterness. It was sufficient that 
he traced his rights to an alien source, to rouse 
a settler's discontent. The settlers had acquired 
too much to be satisfied with less than all. 
Penn's difficulty existed in the nature of things. 
He had to govern a free people by hereditary right. 
The Assembly never could forget he was their 
master. Though he stood between them and the 
267 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

iron rule at home, his life was one great struggle 
with settlers who withheld his dues — who disobeyed 
his orders— who invaded and annulled his rights. 
A democratic party rose, which led him into 
trouble in the colony, and even joined his Eng- 
lish enemies in their efforts to procure a forfeiture 
of his grant. Though Fletcher's government was 
more galling to them than the proprietor's, yet 
to him they passed and paid a war-tax. A sal- 
ary they would not grant; and the crown was 
compelled to allow its servant half this war-tax 
for his personal use. No governor, from first to 
last, could work with the Assembly :— nor did the 
constitution of Pennsylvania get into a state of 
free action till the feudal element was cast away. 
During this interval, Penn became acquainted 
with the young Czar, Peter of Russia, then work- 
ing in the dockyard at Deptford as a carpenter 
and ship-builder. With that passion for convert- 
ing great people which led their brethren to Rome, 
to Adrianople, and to Versailles, in search of royal 
proselytes, Thomas Story and another Friend, 
hearing that the ruler of Muscovy was at Dept- 
ford, went to him for the purpose of delivering 
the new gospel. Peter knew no Latin ; they were 
ignorant of German ; it was impossible to converse 
without an interpreter. The Friends were charmed 
with their reception, and immediately reported to 
Penn who spoke High German, that a field 
was opening in the imperial nund. Penn went 
down to York Buildings, where the Czar resided, 
with Prince Menzikoff, and there he saw the ob- 
ject of his visit. As a man who had lived in 
courts and seen the world, — as the son also of a 
famous admiral, — Penn got on much better with 
Peter than the simple-hearted Story. \^'ith the 
practical turn which distinguished him, Peter 
268 



LAND OF PROMISE. 

passed at once to what appeared to him the heart 
of the matter. You say you are a new people,— 
^ill you fight better than the rest? Story told 
him they could not bear arms. Then tell me, said 
Peter, of what use would you be to any kingdom 
if you will not fight? The fact of their wearing 
their hats amused him ; but he could not be made 
to comprehend the reason for it. Eager for knowl- 
edge of every kind, he listened with courtesy and 
interest to the discourses of Penn; he wished, he 
said, to learn in a few words what the Quakers 
taught and practised, that he might be able to 
distinguish them from other men ; whereupon his 
visitor wTote : * They teach that men must be 
holy, or they cannot be happy ; that they should 
be few in words, peaceable in life, suffer wrongs, 
love enemies, deny themselves, without which faith 
is false, worship formality, and religion hypoc- 
risy.' Peter was not converted, but he went oc- 
casionally to the meetings of Friends at Dept- 
ford, where he behaved very politely and socially, 
standing up or sitting down as it suited the con- 
venience and comfort of others. Some preachers 
thought their listener w^as a convert to their faith ; 
they were not aware that in his thirst for knowl- 
edge he was in the habit of studying every sect. 
The complaints of Colonel Quarry, and the ris- 
ing discontents in the colony, kept Penn alarmed. 
One charge against his cousin Markham was not 
cleared away before another rose ; so that his ene- 
mies had almost daily opportunities of poisoning 
the King's mind on that sorest of all subjects — the 
revenue. The Governor felt unlimited confidence 
in the faith and purity of Markham: at the same 
lime he saw that a necessity was arising for his 
(!wu presence in Philadelphia, and he began to 
make preparations for his voyage. 
269 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

The outcry against Colonel Markham and the 
magistrates of Pennsylvania swelled louder and 
louder. Markham was a prompt, proud officer, in 
whose hands the dignity of the government cer- 
tainly suffered no diminution. Did he encourage 
contraband traders? Stript of malice, the State 
Papers still contain evidence which would satisfy 
most juries; it is certain that he behaved impru- 
dently to those whom he believed to be engaged in 
a malicious conspiracy against his cousin and him- 
self. He refused to pass the Jamaica act against 
pirates or smugglers, though he had received it 
directly from Whitehall, with a request from the 
Board of Trade that it should be made law. He 
sent Randolph, one of the commissioners, to pris- 
on ; he allowed David Loyd, attorney-general for 
the colony, to use some expressions in open court 
which were considered as an insult to the King's 
person. Quarry made the utmost of his impru- 
dent acts. Penn's agents, he said, entered the 
King's store-houses by force; they carried away 
the goods which had been lawfully seized from j)!- 
rates; they protected smugglers coming into the 
Delaware from New York; they tried to ruin the 
Admiralty officers, and even threatened to take 
away their lives. A pirate vessel, he said, had 
come into the river; Markham had lent no aid in 
capturing her. Such pirates as were taken prison- 
ers were lodged in a tavern ; Quakers not being 
willing to send them to a jail. The Council, not 
unwilling to assert the King's authority, made an 
order depriving Colonel ]\Iarkham of his powers. 

Popple had prepared Penn to expect this meas- 
ure ; and Penn had signified his intention of start- 
ing for Philadelphia in a few weeks. On the same 
day, therefore, in which Markham was deposed, 
another Order in Council was made, approving of 
270 



LAND OF PROMISE. 

suggestions h-om the Board of Trade, and recom- 
mending them to Penn's attention. Hoping to 
remain in America Penn prepared to take his wife 
and family — excepting his son William, who would 
not go — wdth the domestic and personal couA-en- 
iences desirable in a new country and a permanent 
home. He left the care of his public interests to 
the faithful Lawton; and his private business to 
the faithless Ford. 

Embarking at Cowes, in the Canterhury, they 
sailed on the 9th of September, 1699. on a three 
months' voyage. About the time he left England 
the yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia, and 
carried off great numbers; but when he arrived 
at Chester, things were looking brighter than they 
had been. A settler named Beaven dragged an 
old Swedish cannon from a yard and fired it off 
in honour of the day. The cannon burst, and 
Beaven had his arm shot off. Some Quakers said 
it was a judgment on his sin ; but Penn took up 
the man. and put him under medical care, and 
charged himself \\ith all the cost of curing him. 
Poor Beaven lingered for some months and then 
broke down. Penn's cash-book shows the course 
of his decay : to B. Beaven, lO.s'. 8J. ; to a woman 
watching Beaven, 6.s'. ; to F. Jervais (a surgeon). 
27. 10,s'. ; to a grave-digger, 3*'. 4f7. Beaven had 
fired his piece and shot himself. When the dm- 
terbury reached Philadelphia Penn went first of 
all to visit his cousin, Colonel Markham, and then 
repaired to the meeting-house to see the inhabi- 
tants. His reception was enthusiastic. The people 
in general had long mourned over his absence, 
says Thomas Loyd. one of the deputies; and now 
believing that he would never leave them again to 
become the dupes of faction and the prey of de- 
signing men. they were filled with joy. 
27X 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Instructions were sent out by the Council for his 
guidance on the two vexed questions of piracy 
and revenue ; and his first public act on assuming 
the reins of government was to send forth procla- 
mations against pirates and contraband traders. 
Not content with proclaiming, he informed his 
oflScers and Council that as they were anxious to 
preserve his rights and their own honour, they 
must use every endeavour to put down this illegal 
trade. He placed himself in friendly communica- 
tion with Colonel Quarry— who had received from 
the Admiralty an order to pay the Governor great 
respect — and discussed with him the best course of 
proceeding, with a view to re-establish harmony. 
The revenue agent, mollified by this courtesy, en- 
tered readily into his plans. No more complaints 
were sent to London; and in less than three 
months from Penn's landing in the Delaware, 
Quarry had become his friend. The change was 
marvellous. In his letters to the Lords of Trade 
and Plantations, he reported that Penn's arrival 
had completely changed the state of affairs, that 
offending officers had been displaced, that the 
pirates were being pursued with rigour and that 
two acts had been passed which would meet all 
evils in the future. 

Anxious to put an end to the dispute, Penn 
called the members of his Council and the general 
Assembly together some weeks before the usual 
time. As yet there was no law in Pennsylvania 
against piracy : and when the Quakers had refused 
to commit pirates to the common jail they could 
quote their code of laws in justification of their 
refusal. Here there was an evil to be met. So 
soon as they had passed two enactments, one 
against pirates and one against contraband trade, 
which they did on the Governor's remonstrance,— 
272 



LAND OF PROMISE. 

though reluctantly — he dismissed them for the 
winter. Now that he was legally armed, he found 
the task of putting down the pirates much more 
easy. By the end of February 1700. he was able 
to lay before Secretary A ernon and the Board of 
Trade a statement of his doings; and in due time 
received from Whitehall an assurance that his con- 
duct was satisfactory to the crown. 



18 273 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Pexnsbuky (1700). 

Penn had leisure to settle his family in the place 
which he had meant to be their future home. 
Pennsburj was an ancient Indian royalty. It had 
been chosen as the abode of chiefs on account of 
its situation. Arms of the great river, which were 
bent no less than three times round it. had in 
ruder ages of \Narfare made an almost impregna- 
ble defence. ^Yhen the estate was first laid out by 
Markham. it consisted of 8431 acres; but a por- 
tion of the ground was left in forest state as a 
park ; and the proprietor from time to time re- 
duced its size by grants to different men. On this 
land his agent Markham had begun to build, even 
before his first arrival in the country, a mansion 
worthy of the owner of a great province; and 
during his absence in England it had been com- 
pleted. The front of the house, sixty feet long, 
faced the I'claware, and the upper windows com- 
manded views of the river and of the opposite 
shores of New Jersey. The depth of the manor- 
house was forty feet, and on either wing outhouses 
were disposed so as to produce an agreeable and 
picturesque effect. A brew-house, a large wooden 
building covered with shingles, stood at the back, 
some little distance from the mansion, and con- 
cealed among the trees. The house itself stood on 
a gentle eminence; it was two stories high, built 
of fine brick, and covered with tiles. A large and 
handsome porch and stone steps led into a spa- 
cious hall, extending nearly the whole length of 
the house; a hall which could be used on public 
274 



PENNSBURY. 

occasions for the entertainment of distinguished 
guests and the reception of Indian tribes. The 
rooms, arranged in suites had ample folding-doors, 
and wainscots planed from Englii-h oak. A simple 
taste prevailed throughout. The oaken capital at 
the porch was decorated with the carving of a 
vine and bunch of grapes. These decorations had 
been sent from England. The gardens of Penns- 
bury were the wonder of the colony. A country 
house, with ample garden, was the proprietor's 
passion ; and by a liberal outlay of care and money 
he made the grounds of Pennsbury unequalled 
for extent and beauty. Penn sought for able gar- 
deners with a zeal which bordered on enthusiasm. 
In one of his letters he speaks of his good fortune 
in having met with ' a rare artist* in Scotland, who 
is to go out to America and have three men un- 
der him. Orders were given that if this Scotch ar- 
tist could not agree with Ralph, the old gardener, 
they were to divide the grounds between them, 
Ralph taking the upper gardens and the court- 
yards, the rare Scotch artist having charge of all 
the lower grounds. Penn gave instructions as to 
every detail. Lawns, shrubberies, and flower-beds 
surrounded the manor on every side. A broad 
walk, lined with poplars. led to the river brink, a 
flight of stone steps forming the descent from the 
higher terrace to the lower. Near the house the 
woods were laid out with walks and drives ; the 
old forest trees were carefully preserved ; the most 
beautiful wild flowers found in the country were 
transplanted to the gardens : trees and shrubs not 
indigenous to the soil were imported from Mary- 
land ; while walnuts, hawthorns, hazels, and vari- 
ous kinds of fruit trees, seeds, and roots, were sent 
from home. 
The furnishing of Pennsbury was to match, ^la- 
275 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

hogany was a luxury then unknown ; but Mrs, 
Penn'.s spider tables and high-backed carved chairs 
were of the finest oak. An inventory of the furni- 
ture is still extant. There were a set of Turkey 
worked chairs, arm-chairs for ease, and couches 
with plush and satin cushions for luxury and 
beauty. In the parlour stood the great leather 
chair of the proprietor ; in every room were cush- 
ions and curtains of satin, camlet, damask, and 
striped linen ; and there is a carpet mentioned as 
being in one apartment, though at that period 
such an article was hardly ever seen except in the 
palaces of kings. Mrs. Penn's sideboard furniture 
included a service of silver, consisting of cups and 
tankards, bowls and dishes, tea-pots, salt-cellars 
and silver forks ; blue and white china, a complete 
set of Tonbridge ware, and a great quantity of 
damask table-cloths and fine napkins. Penn's ta- 
ble was well served. Ann Nichols was his cook; 
and he used to observe in his pleasantry. ' Ah, the 
book of cookery has outgrown the Bible, and I 
fear is read oftener— to be sure it is of more use.' 
But he was no favourer of excess, because as he 
said, 'it destroys hospitality and wrongs the 
poor.' The French cuisine in vogue was a sub- 
ject of his frequent ridicule. ' The sauce is now 
prepared before the meat,' says he, in his Maxims, 
'twelve pennyworth of flesh with five shillings of 
cookery may happen to make a fashionable dish. 
Plain beef or mutton is become dull food ; but by 
the time its natural relish is lost in the crowd of 
cook's ingredients, and the meat sufficiently dis- 
guised from the eaters, it passes under a French 
name for a rare dish.' Penn's cellars were well 
stocked ; canary, claret, sack, and madeira, being 
the favourite wines consumed by his family and 
their guests. Besides these nobler drinks there 
276 



PENNSBURY. 

was a plentiful supply of ale and cider. Penn's 
own wine seems to have been madeira; and he 
certainly had no dislike to the temperate pleasures 
of the table. In one of his letters to his steward 
Sotcher, he writes, 'Pray send us some two or 
three smoked haunches of venison and pork— get 
them from the Swedes; also some smoked shads 
and beefs.' He adds with unction, 'The old priest 
at Philadelphia had rare shads I ' 

For travelling", the family had a coach, but in 
consequence of the bad roads, even those between 
Pennsbury and Philadelphia, it was seldom used ; 
a light calesh in which they chiefly drove about ; 
and a sedan-chair in which Hannah and Lettie 
went a-shopping in the town. Penn rode about 
the country on horseback, and sailed from one 
settlement to another in his yacht. He retained 
the passion for boating, which he had acquired at 
Oxford to the last; and that love of fine horses 
which the Englishman shares with the Arab did 
not forsake him in the New World. On his first 
visit to America he had carried over three blood- 
mares, a fine white horse not of full breed, and 
other inferior animals, not for breeding but for 
labour. His inquiries about the mares were as 
frequent and minute as those about the gardens; 
and when he went out for the second time, in 
1699, he took with him the magnificent colt Tam- 
erlane, by the celebrated Godolphin Parb. to which 
the best horses now in England trace their pedi- 
gree. Yet Tamerlane could not wean his master's 
affections from his yacht : a vessel of dx oars, 
with a regular crew, who received their wages as 
such — and well deserved them while the Governor 
was at home. In giving some direction? aboi.t his 
house and effects after his return to I'ngland he 
writes of this yacht, ' But above all dead things, 
277 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

I hope nobody uses her on any account, and that 
she is kept in a dry dock, or at least covered from 
the weather.' 

The dress and habits of the Penns at Pennsbury 
had as little of the sourness and formality which 
have been ascribed to the early followers of George 
Fox as the mansion and its furnishings. There 
was nothing to mark them as differing from fam- 
ilies of rank in England and America at the pres- 
ent day. Pennsbury was renowned throughout the 
country for its hospitalities. The ladies dressed 
like gentlewomen; wore caps and buckles, silk 
gowns and golden ornaments. Penn had no less 
than four wigs in America, all purchased in the 
same year, at a cost of nearly twenty pounds. To 
innocent dances and country fairs he not only 
made no objection, but countenanced them by his 
own and his family's presence. His participation 
in the sports of the aborigines has been referred 
to. All the gentler charities which distinguished 
him in England continued to distinguish him 
in Pennsylvania ; he released the poor debtor from 
prison, he supported out of his private purse the 
sick and destitute, he gave pensions of three shil- 
lings a-week to many of the aged who were beyond 
labour, and there were numerous persons about 
him whom he had rescued from distress in Eng- 
land, and whom he supported wholly or in part 
until their own industry made them independent. 
Some of the best pages of his history are wTitten 
in his private cash-books. 

In April, 1700, the Assembly met for ordinary 
business. There had been already many changes 
introduced into the constitution; and it was well 
known that a large part, perhaps a majority, of 
the new parliament would be favourable to a fresh 
revision. The Holy Experiment was proceeding 
278 



PENNSBURY. 

with more passion and more restlessness than its 
author had expected; still he would not admit 
that he felt discouraged. The representatives as- 
sumed the right to bring in bills,— thej attempted 
to reorganise the judicial system,— they refused to 
vote any taxes —they claimed a right to inspect 
the records of government. — they VN-ished to dis- 
place the officers of his courts— and they expelled 
a member of the House for telling them the truth. 
Penn bore ^ith them from motives higher and 
farther-reaching than most of them could under- 
stand ; whatever might result to him, he was re- 
solved to realize his dream, — to lay a foundation 
for that Holy Empire, the thoughts of which had 
cheered him in his darkest hours. When the As- 
sembly met in Philadelphia, he addressed them in 
conciliatory terms : — he began by reminding them 
that though they were only nineteen years old, 
they were already equal in numbers and prosper- 
ity to their neighbours of twice and thrice that 
standing; they had a good constitution though 
it was not perfect ; the growth of the province had 
been so extraordinary that while some of the laws 
were already obsolete, others were found to be 
hurtful ; these must be looked to. If they wished 
to have the charter amended, he was wdlling; he 
only asked them to lay aside all party feeling 
and to do that which was best for all, confident 
that in the end it would be best for each. So far 
as regarded a provision for himself, he would only 
tell them that for nineteen years he had maintained 
the whole charge of the government from his pri- 
vate purse. He placed himself in their hands, and 
hoped he should never be compelled to leaA^e them 
again. 

\Mien Penn landed in America, Negro slaves were 
on the soil. Hawkins had the merit of first en- 
279 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

gaging England in the African slave-trade ; but it 
i.s fair to state that his royal mistress, Elizabeth, 
not only approved his expeditions but joined him 
in the traffic. No suspicion that this trade was 
infamous ever crossed her mind. In all the mari- 
time towns of Europe slavery was an ancient in- 
stitution. The cities of Portugal Italy, and Spain, 
were dotted with the dusky forms of Negro and 
Moorish slaves. The best and most religious men 
of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ac- 
cepted the existing facts of society without a pro- 
test. Columbus introduced the Negro into Ameri- 
ca ; Cromwell did not hesitate to sell his prisoners ; 
Locke provided a place for slaves in his constitu- 
tion, and forbade them even to aspire to a free 
condition. Such was the state of things when 
Penn began to think of it. A century after that 
period the idea was still general in England that 
the sale of Africans was a legitimate branch of 
trade. By a stipulation of the Treaty of Utrecht, 
Queen Anne became for a time the largest slave- 
merchant in the world. 

It is no demerit in Penn that he did not see at 
once the evil, and oppose a system which Locke 
approved. Yet from the first he had his doubts. 
While acting under the counsels of Sydney, he had 
provided that, if the Free Society of Traders 
should receive Negroes as servants they must at 
least set them partially free after fourteen years 
of service— that is, they must become adscripts of 
the soil; the Free Society giving to each man a 
piece of land, with the tools for its cultivation, 
and receiving in return two-thirds of the crops. 
If the Negroes should refuse these terms they were 
to continue slaves. Many years after this date, 
Penn spoke of slavery as a thing of course; he 
constantly hired slaves from their owners; and 
280 



PENNSBURY. 

thej formed a regular part of his establishment 
at Pennsbury. But his mind was not at rest ; for 
his neighbours from the Upper Ehine had started 
the novel doctrine that it was not Christian-like 
to buy and keep Negroes. Coming from an in- 
land and' agricultural country, where the luxury 
and license of commercial cities were unknown, 
these German settlers looked on the fact of good 
men buying and selling human beings, — owning 
men with immortal spirits, — men who in a few 
years, according to their own avowed belief, would 
become not only their ovm equals, but the glori- 
ous peers of angels and archangels, — as something 
monstrous. They appealed to the Friends ; — but 
Friends declined to say if slavery were right or 
not. When Penn arrived a second time he found 
that many had begun to doubt the lawfulness of 
owning slaves ; and yet on looking at the matter, 
he felt certain that between the two races there 
existed an intellectual inequality which no act of 
Assembly could remove, and which must of neces- 
sity preclude social equality, until by process of 
education and lapse of time the Negro had been 
greatly changed. With this conviction he began 
to work. He tried to get his own religious body 
to recognise the fact that a black man has a soul, 
by taking some care for it ; whereupon a separate 
monthly meeting for Negroes was established. 
Next he looked at their moral condition, — and 
found them living in their homes like brutes. As 
they were liable to be sold and carried away to 
distant parts of the country, it was not conven- 
ient to their owners that they should marry; yet, 
as every Negro child was an additional chattel, 
worth so many pounds in the slave-market inter- 
course between the sexes was encouraged rather 
than rebuked. Penn was anxious to check this 
281 



LIFE OF WILLIAM FEXN. 

evil by a formal law ; and as the breach of a law 
necessarily involved punishment he resolved to in- 
troduce two bills into the Assembly; one provid- 
ing for a better regulation of the morals and mar- 
riages of Negroes ; the second providing for the 
mode of their trial and punishment in cases of 
offence. After a stormy debate, the Assembly 
rejected the first of these bills : — they would not 
have the morals of their slaves improved. In the 
will which he drew up before leaving the country, 
Penn gave their freedom to all his slaves. 



282 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 
Makixg Empire (1700-2). 

The session being over, Penn returned to Penns- 
bury; where, besides his household cares, the In- 
dians occupied no little of his mind. Superior in 
calibre and character to the African race, he fancied 
these red men might be descended from the long- 
lost tribes of Israel. When he made the Treaty 
with them in 1682,— a treaty which they had 
faithfully kept through a long war under many 
temptations,— he had proposed to himself to call 
a council of the chiefs and warriors twice a-year. 
to renew the treaty of friendship, to ar^just mat- 
ters of trade, to hear and rectify wrongs, and to 
smoke the pipe of peace. While he remained in 
the colony this intention was strictly carried out. 

The Delaware and Susquehannah tribes had now 
enjoyed his mild and equitable rule for nearly 
twenty years, and were anxious to bring other of 
their tribes within shelter of the same system of 
law, but more especially their brethren dwelling on 
the banks of the Potomac. They appealed to 
Onas; and early in April, 1701, he met by ap- 
pointment to arrange these matters, Connoodagh- 
toh. king of the Susquehannah Indians, Wopatha. 
king of the Shawanese Weewhinjough king of the 
Ganawese and Ahookassong. brother to the Em- 
peror of the Five Nations, and forty other chiefs. 
A treaty of peace and trade was established by 
mutual consent, on the same terms as had for- 
merly been granted to the I^nni Lenapp. The 
red man and the white man were to be as one 
28.3 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

head and one heart. The Indians were to be pro- 
tected from the rapacity of traders ; and as they 
bound themselves not to sell their furs and skins 
out of Pennsylvania. Penn thought it possible to 
teach them morals by means of trade ; and on 
these terms the Potomac Indians were allowed to 
settle on his land. A treaty of peace and friend- 
ship was also concluded with Ahookassong as the 
ambassador of his imperial brother, on the part 
of the Five Nations ; an important point, even in 
a military sense; for, when a war was raging on 
the frontiers, this measure added a new bulwark 
to Pennsylvania. Penn lost no time in transmit- 
ting the intelligence of his success in these nego- 
tiations to the English court. 

In the intervals of his more pressing labours, 
Penn kept up communications with Richard Coote, 
an Irish peer, then governor at New York, and 
with Colonel Blakiston, Colonel Nicholson, and 
other governors of provinces. Questions of great 
importance had to be arranged ; and a confer- 
ence was held at New York for the purpose of 
settling the heads of a general regulation for all 
the colonies, royal and private. Penn took the 
lead in this conference. The first thing to engage 
attention was the coinage ; for the same piece was 
then passing in Maryland for 4.s. 6J., in Virginia 
for OS., in Massachussetts for 6.s., in New York 
for 6.S'. 9J., and in Pennsylvania and the two Jer- 
seys for 7,s. 8f/. A second point was a project for 
encouraging the timber-trade. A third question 
was the law of marriage. Great abuses had aris- 
en ; and bigamy was almost as common in the 
colonies as wedlock. A fourth question was the 
establishment of a general postal system; a fifth 
the necessity for a comprehensive act of naturalis- 
ation, by which the multitudes of French, Dutch, 
284 



MAKING EMPIRE. 

and Swedes who came out every year, might gain 
the rights and privileges of English subjects. In 
the settlement of boundaries with the French. 
Penn drew a line through the great lakes.— on the 
double ground, that those inland waters formed a 
natural defence, and were the chief centres of the 
Indian trade. His advice was afterwards adopted 
by the government. Coote having agreed to 
these suggestions, Penn returned to Philadelphia, 
embodied them in a report, and transmitted them 
to London, where the Lords of Trade received 
them with much satisfaction. 

But while he was thus engaged, Penn received 
news from England, which compelled him to return 
in haste. The war with France had given the 
friends of an imperial system many opportunities ; 
and in the absence of the great proprietors, these 
partizans had brought a bill into the House of 
Lords for seizing the private colonies and vesting 
them in the Crown. 

Of course attack on property and private right 
was veiled under pretences of the public good. 
Penn knew the authors of this bill ; he felt that 
they were wilfully deceiving William ; and he 
thought and felt that after what he had already 
done, he should be able to convince the King. He 
had not only renewed his own friendly treaties 
\\ith the natives in his own vicinity, but by urgent 
counsels had engaged Lord Bellamont to con- 
clude a treaty of peace for all the settlements of 
the English in North America. Within his own 
province he had organised a system of signals and 
watchers, so that the appearance of any suspi- 
cious sail in the waters of the Delaware would be 
instantly reported to the government at Phila- 
delphia. The question of a war contribution had 
not come before the Assembly, peace being now 
285 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

restored in Europe; but on the great drama 
known in history as the war of the Spanish Suc- 
cession opening in calamitous grandeur, William 
wrote to Penn that he muist have either his con- 
tingent, or his money ready. Eighty men were to 
be raised ; if not, a sum of 3507. was to be paid. 
Penn laid his charge before the Assembly ; but the 
members talked of their great poverty — doubted 
whether the other provinces had done their duty 
— and resolved to postpone considerations of his 
Majesty's letter until the war had actually com- 
menced. Affairs were in this awkward way when 
Penn received from Lawton, who was watching 
every tide and turn of politics on his behalf, the 
news of what was passing in the House of Lords. 
No time was to be lost. The owners of Pennsyl- 
vania property then in England prayed the House 
of Lords to postpone discussion of the Colonies 
Bill till Penn could be heard in person. Penn the 
Younger, who, amidst his dissipations, kept an 
eye on politics, demanded to be heard in counsel, 
and the Lords consenting to his prayer, the case 
was argued in committee, and some valuable time 
was gained. The House had been deceived, and 
the Board of Trade was found to have kept impor- 
tant papers back. In Pennsylvania the feeling 
against annexation to the crown was all but uni- 
versal. Having called the representatives to- 
gether, Penn laid the intelligence he had just re- 
ceived before them. With a single voice they urged 
him to return at once, and to defend their inter- 
ests and his own. He said he could not think of 
such a voyage vsithout reluctance. His wife, Han- 
nah, had recently given brth to a son, and was 
still in a delicate state of health. He had prom- 
ised himself a quiet home amongst them in his old 
age ; and even if he should now go away for a sea- 
286 



MAKING EMPIRE. 

eon, no unkindness would be able to change his 
mind ; he should return and settle in the country. 
He advised them to decide what ought to be done 
for the general security in his absence,— what 
changes were needed in the constitution,— what 
new laws were required by the circumstances which 
had arisen on every side. He recommended the 
King's letter touching subsidy to their prompt 
consideration : that question of the war-tax being 
the keynote of his answer to all misgivings of the 
court. 

The members thanked him for these gracious 
words, and named committees to draw up state- 
ments and prepare the course of business. But in 
place of aiding him to meet the evil with such 
means as lay within their reach,— ini^tead of vot- 
ing the royal subsidy and amending their general 
laws,— they drew up a list of claims on him. their 
friend and founder. One of these claims was a 
request that the price of unsold land should be 
permanently fixed at the old rent of a bushel of 
wheat in a hundred ; so that while their own es- 
tates were being improved tenfold in value with 
increase of inhabitants, his estate should have 
no share in this natural increase. Another was a 
request that he would lay out all the unsold bay 
marshes, a rich and highly productive soil, as 
common land. There was more to this effect. The 
settlers saw him entering on a fght in which he 
might be beaten, — for the King was his antt^gonist 
and judge.— and sought to wTing from his misfor- 
tunes some large share of personal gain. His 
calmness under such an insult was surprising; 
though his heart was strained, his speech was very 
mild. The inconsistency of their demands was 
pointed out, — concessions, where no principle was 
involved, were made,— and the Assembly, perhaps 
287 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

ashamed returned to something like a better sense. 
Yet what they gained from him was much : no 
less than a new charter of liberties. This new 
charter was argued at great length ; and on the 
28th of October, 1701, it was finally settled and 
accepted in the presence of the Council and As- 
sembly. It contained encroachments on the powers 
of the Governor and his Council : but the chief 
innovation was the right which the Assembly now 
acquired to originate bills. They had framed some 
bills already in the time of Colonel Fletcher; but 
the act was contrary to law. Henceforth the right 
they had usurped was guaranteed by Penn. 

Then came the question of money. Penn had 
plenty of land under cultivation; the fields gave 
him corn and meat ; the rivers yielded fish ; and 
the air brought store of birds. To live at Penns- 
bury was easy. But to take his family across the 
Atlantic was expensive; a vessel must be hired, 
and wages must be paid. Yet the Assembly would 
do nothing in the way of grants; and he was 
forced to sell as much land as would cover the 
expenses of his voyage. He hinted that the colony 
was now rich enough to pay the cost of govern- 
ment; but his little parliament refused to under- 
take the charge. 

Penn'swife and daughter were delighted with the 
prospect of going home. They felt no love for the 
wilderness ; and more than once had urged the 
Governor to take them back. 

As t-oon as news got abroad that Onas was 
about to quit the Delaware, the Indians came in 
from all parts of the country to take leave of him. 
A sentiment of fear that he would never more re- 
turn across the great salt water haunted their 
untutored minds, and they clung to their assur- 
ances of amity and justice with greater force, be- 
288 



MAKING EMPIRE. 

cause they feared that his children would not be 
to them what he had been. What pale-face had 
they ever seen like him? A pale-face was to them 
a trapper, a soldier, a pirate; a man who cheated 
them in barter, who abused their squaws who 
gave them fire-water to drink, who buttled them 
off their hunting-ground. But here was one pale- 
face who would not cheat and lie; who would not 
fire into their lodge ; who would not rob them of 
their beaver-skins ; who would not take a rood of 
land from tliem till they had fixed and he had 
paid a price. \Yhere could they look for such an- 
other lord? To comfort them in their distress, 
Pcnn introduced them to his Council and again 
repeated his desires. The members of his Council 
pledged themselves to carry out his wish when he 
was gone as if he were still living at Pennsbury 
to punidi the guilty and protect the innocent. 
They took their parting gifts in sorrow; and af- 
ter the lapt e of a century the memory of that day 
was found to be still fresh in their descendants' 
hearts. 

The vessel in w^hich the Penn family were to sail 
being now ready, Penn appointed James Logan 
as his agent and Colonel Hamilton ex-governor 
of the Jerseys as his deputy. These appointments 
were made with the full consent of the Assembly. 
Hamilton was to be assisted by a Council often; 
and at the urgent request of his representatives, 
who fancied that affairs would go more smoothly 
if the heir were in the colony, Penn agreed to 
send over his son William, so that he might learn 
betimes the nature and wants of the country he 
would in a few years have to rule. 



19 289 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Closing Scenes f 1702-1718). 

When Penn arrived he found the state of parties 
changed. William was dying. Anne had been his 
friend, and when she succeeded to the throne, he 
was again a welcome guest at court. The bill of 
annexation was allowed to drop. Penn sent for 
his son, William, and told him of the promise he 
had made. The youth was not disposed to leave 
the brilliant life of London for the solitude of a 
new country and the stiff decorum of a Quaker 
town. From school days he had kept the highest 
company ; under his mother's will he had received 
a fortune of his own— the Springett property in 
Kent ; and being suddenly set free by his mother's 
death, and his father's voyage, he had leapt with 
only too much ardour into every social vice. He 
drank ; he roved about ; he kept gay women. When 
his father came home he found the youth in debt 
and almost ruined in constitution. This clever but 
perverted boy was the only remaining son of his 
lost Guli. and the heir to his colonial govern- 
ment. He had tlie grace to be ashamed ; and on 
his father promising to pay his debts in London, 
and to give him an estate in Pennsylvania for his 
separate use, he even offered to go out to Ameri- 
ca, and study the business of that country under 
guidance of the newly named Deputy-Governor 
Evans and his Council. Penn gave him an estate 
of seven thousand acres which he called from his 
son's name Williamstadt. He also \\Tote most 
urgent letters to his old friends in Philadelphia 
290 



CLOSING SCENES. 

about his son. 'He has wit,' he said, 'has kept 
top company, and must be handled with much 
wisdom.' Logan undertook to give him good ad- 
vice; to keep such an eye on him as he would 
keep on a favourite son. 

For a few months the young rake behaved 
pretty well. Logan retained his influence; and 
between his dog and gun his hunter and fishing- 
tackle his time was pleasantly and innocently, if 
not very usefully, spent. But after a wliile an evil 
intimacy sprang up between the fashionable youth 
and Governor Evans, an ill-conditioned person 
like himself; and between them they not only 
brought discredit on themselves but filled the 
whole community with the scandal of their lives. 
Young Penn. as heir to the government, not only 
set an example of riot, but protected those who 
imitated his excess. The young and idle crow^ded 
round him; made him their chief; and filled his 
busy pate with notions of such glory as the stout 
old Admiral had won. The war question being 
under discussion in the Assembly, young Penn 
joined the war party, and on his own authority 
organised a body of troops in the Quaker city. 
Nor was this his worst offence. He and his com- 
panions frequented low taverns ; got up rows in 
the streets and beat the watch. The riot of Lon- 
don seemed to have rushed at once into the midst 
of that quiet community. A masquerade was es- 
tablished at a public-house kept by Simes. The 
roysterers caroused till midnight at the White 
Hart. Women went about the streets in male at- 
tire; and two men were brought into court on a 
charge of being found at night in women's clothes, 
contrary to decency and law. But as the el- 
ders frowmed the youngsters only gibed and 
laughed. At length a crisis came. A scene occur- 
291 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

red in the streets; a constable was beaten in tht 
performance of his duty ; and the city guard was 
called to quell the riot. Some escaped, but others 
were arrested : — among- the former was Governor 
Evans, among the latter was young Penn. Next 
morning Penn was brought before the mayor and 
rated. He replied ^dth taunts; he was a gentle- 
man he said, and not responsible to his father's 
petty officers. Evans, who took his part, an- 
nulled by proclamation the&e proceedings of the 
court. This conduct roused the Quaker spirit : — 
that body indicted yo:.ng Penn; and in his anger 
he renounced their doctrines, discipline, and juris- 
diction. These disorders were a source of inap- 
peasable grief to Penn in England, and they fur- 
nished Quarry, once more active in his work, with 
solid grounds of " censure. The young man soon 
returned to England deep in debt though he had 
sold the fine estate of \Yilliamstadt ; as thoroughly 
disgusted with America as America was \\'ith him. 
He quitted Pennsylvania with the threat that he 
would soon persuade his father to sell that colony 
to the crowTi. 

Penn had a father's weakness for this youth- 
was he not Gull's son? He thought the Quakers 
of the colony had dealt too harshly with him; 
that they had not considered his youth. He 
thought his friends should have seen the conduct 
of his son in its best aspect, not in its worst. 
That which his son desired from choice, he was 
impelled towards by necessity. His steward, Philip 
Ford had died in January 1702. leaving his 
affairs to the management of his widow and his 
son. The widow ruled her son ; who would have 
been as great a scoundrel as his parents had he 
possessed their gifts. The elder Ford had so 
contrived to jumble Penn's accounts, as to keep 
292 



CLOSING SCENES. 

him ignorant how they stood. When asked to 
sign papers and accounts, Penn seldom troubled 
himself to read them over, but in simple 
faith set his name to them and passed them on. 
Ford knew how to take advantage of this want of 
prudence. In an evil hour, when Penn was seeking 
funds to carry him over to America the second 
time, Ford got from him— as a form— a deed 
of sale for the colony ; on which security. Ford ad- 
vanced him 2800/. This deed was considered by 
Penn, and professedly considered by Ford, as a 
mortgage. Ford received money on account of 
the province, and made such advances as the 
Governor needed. It was not till Penn returned 
to England that a first suspicion of his steward 
crossed his mind. He tried to think himself de- 
ceived. But when the Quaker died his knavery 
came to the light of day. From an uncertain re- 
membrance of the sums advanced and paid Penn 
thought his mortgaged nearly cancelled ; but the 
funeral rites of Ford were hardly over, when the 
widow sent him in a bill for 14,000/., and threat- 
ened to seize and sell his province if it were not 
paid. 

Penn was thunderstruck. He asked for accounts. 
Henry Goldney. a legal Friend and Herbert Sprin- 
gett. a near relation of his first wife assisted 
him. When the accounts were put in shape, it 
appeared, by his own showing, that Ford had 
received on behalf of Penn 17,8597. ; that he had 
paid 16,2007. Yet he claimed 14 00071 That the 
matter should be settled on just bases and, both 
parties being Friends, that no scandal should be 
brought on the society, Penn proposed to refer it 
to arbitration; but the Fords rejected his pro- 
posal. They wanted law— not equity. The courts 
they said, would give them the money, and they 
293 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

would have their rights. It was well for Penn 
that he was able to find a set of the accounts as 
they had been sent to him from time to time, 
these papers told him the iniquitous story page 
by page. 

( 1. ) The Fords had charged him interest on ad- 
vances; but allowed him none on their receipts. 
( 2. ) They had charged him eight per cent inter- 
est, though six per cent was the fixed and legal 
rate. (3.) They had charged compound interest 
on the 28007. ; posting it every six months, and 
sometimes oftener, so that the overcharge of in- 
terest again bore interest, even while the balance 
of account was on Penn's side of the ledger. (4.) 
They had charged him fifty shillings as their com- 
mission instead of ten shillings for every 1007. 
received or paid by them to his account — even on 
the overcharges of interest paid to themselves, 
adding it to the principal every six months, so as 
to make him pay a commission of 27. lO.s. to the 
hundred six or seven times over on the same 
money. (5.) While he was in the colony Penn had 
sold a piece of land for 20007.. of which sum he 
sen, 6157. to Ford in liquidation of his debt; but 
Ford instead of posting 6157. to Penn's credit, 
charged his account with 13857., as if he had ad- 
vanced the money, and from that day forward 
reckoned his commission and his compound inter- 
est on this sum. What wonder that the Fords re- 
fused to submit their claims to arbitration 1 The 
excess of charges on the second third . and fourth 
items came to 96977., reducing the claim of 14,- 
0007. to 43037. Penn offered to refund this sum ; 
the widow shook her deed of sale in his face, and 
threatened him with a suit in chancery if the 
whole amount were not paid down. Friends in- 
terfered ; some came from America for the purpose; 
294 



CLOSING SCENES. 

but the younger Ford grew insolent, and the 
widow would not listen to their good advice. 

Though well aware that the uncancelled deed of 
sale could not be disputed, Penn allowed the case 
to go before the Lord Chancellor. The court af- 
firmed the special case of debt; and being armed 
with this legal verdict, Ford went down with a 
constable to Gracechurch Street, and tried to ar- 
rest his patron in the meeting, while surrounded 
by their common friends engaged in the act of 
worship. Herbert Springett and Henry Goldney 
gave their word that Penn would come. To get 
protection from these harjjies, he was forced to go 
into the Fleet ; that is to say, into the Liberties of 
the Fleet. His lodgings were in the Old Bailey, 
where he held meetings of his sect for worship, 
and was visited by friends from Whitehall and the 
Mall. Penn feared that he might have to sell his 
colony ; his son was anxious to be rid of it ; and 
many of his oldest friends urged him to make a 
bargain ^^th the Queen. Necessity alone could 
reconcile him to the thought of giving up the 
guidance of his Holy Experiment,— nor would he 
ever have dreamt of such a thing had the settlers 
treated him with justice. ' I went thither,' he says, 
in a letter to the Judge Mompesson. 'to lay the 
foundations of a free colony for all mankind. The 
charter I granted was intended to shelter them 
against a violent and arbitrary government im- 
posed on us ; but, that they should turn it against 
lue, that intended it for their security, is very un- 
worthy and provoking, especially as I alone have 

been at all the expense But as a father does 

not usually knock his children on the head when 
they do amiss, so I had much rather they were 
corrected and better instructed, than treated to 
the rigour of their deservings.' 
295 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Logan described the feeling of the colony : 
'There are few.' he said to Penn, 'that think it 
any sin to haul what they can from thee.' Some, 
he added, were honest; but honest men let rogues 
have their own way. saying it was not their busi- 
ness. Logan traced their meanness to excess of 
freedom ; and censured his friend for having giv- 
en them a better charter than they deserved. 
Against this inference Penn protested; and when 
he came to treat with the crown for the surrender 
of his province, he made so many conditions in 
favour of the colonists, that the Queen's govern- 
ment was obliged to tell him the remainder was 
not worth accepting, even as a gift. 

Young Ford went over to Pennsylvania, where 
he found out Quarry. Loyd, and other persons 
much opposed to Penn. Governor Evans, who 
had now retrieved his character, defended Penn 
with dignity; and from that moment Evans was 
an object of attack. When Ford had gained some 
persons — such as David Loyd — he sailed for Lon- 
don, where he held out threats of raising a dis- 
turbance in the colony if his wishes were not met. 
As Penn declined to see him, he declared that 
Pennsylvania was his own; that his father had 
bought it years ago ; that he had let it to Penn 
on a rental ; that the rents not being paid, he was 
resolved to take the country into his own hands ; 
he therefore cautioned the owners of land not to 
pay any monies to the agents of Penn, at their 
peril. Widow Ford petitioned the Queen to issue 
a new charter, making the colony over to her, and 
to her son. But Lord Chancellor Cowper, hav- 
ing heard the case argued, not only gave judg- 
ment against them, but spoke so severely on the 
merits of the case and the animus of their pro- 
ceedings, as to cow their spirits. 
296 



CLOSING SCENES. 

Fearing lest he should lose the whole, young 
Ford began to talk of terms. Another instance 
of the elder Ford's swindling was discovered. In 
his accounts there was an item of 12007. which, 
with compound interest, reckoned every six months, 
amounted in the long-run to 55697. But on look- 
ing at the books, it was found that only 500/. 
had been paid by Ford. 

]\Iuch of Penn's property was gone during the 
twenty years of his profitless rule in America. He 
sold the Worminghurst estate to Squire Butler for 
6050/., being 15507. more than he gave for it. after 
having cut down 2000/. of wood. This money sat- 
isfied some creditors, but not all ; and one of them, 
a man named Churchill, was so importunate as to 
try to stop Butler's payment of the purchase- 
money. Under the advice of Goldney, whose purse 
was as much at his friend's service as his tongue, 
Penn and his son William made over to Callow- 
hill, Goldney. Oades, and several others, a deed 
of sale of Pennsylvania for one year, in consider- 
ation of the receipt of ten shillings, with intent 
that these parties might be in actual possession 
of the province during his settlement with the 
Fords. Next day the same parties took a formal 
mortgage of the colony, and paid into his hands 
6800/. The Fords were paid, their claim having 
first been lowered one-half. 

Disorders continued in Pennsylvania. Evans 
behaved with far more zeal than prudence. Where 
he should have wen the old Quaker settlers, he 
offended their prejudices, and bioke with them 
about the w^ar. Procuring a false report to arrive 
in the city, that the French were coming up the 
river, he rui-hed into the street sword in hand, 
calling on the people right and left to arm and 
follow him. The terror was extreme. Some burned 
297 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENX. 

their effects ; many fled into the woods ; still more 
seized their arms. Fixing his .standard on Society 
Hill, he found three hundred well-armed men some 
of them Quakers, rally to the flag. His purpose 
was attained ; he knew how many he could count 
on in a real attack ; but the Quakers, to use the 
words of Logan, were disgusted at the feint, and 
never pardoned him the fright which he had 
caused. 

Penn was anxious to return. He seemed deter- 
mined to go over as things had always gone on 
smoothly under his control. But his want of 
means prevented him. At the end of this year he 
wrote to his agent, 'I assure thee if the people 
would only settle 6007. a-year upon me as Gov- 
ernor. I would hasten over Cultivate this 

among the best Friends.' But the best Friends 
would do nothing. When the Assembly met the 
quarrel with Evans was at its height. If they 
passed a bill, he rejected it ; if he proposed a bill, 
they would not pass it. Nothing could be done, 
and Penn was forced to recall his deputy. 

Lord Baltimore was active. After a lapse of 
twenty-three years, he revived his claim to the 
second half of the Delaware peninsula ; it is possi- 
ble that he only then discovered that his rival's 
title to the territory in question had never been 
completed ; and though three successive sovereigns 
had allowed Penn's right of possession, Baltimore 
thought there was an opening for his claim and 
he advanced it. He i)etitioned the Queen to re- 
peal the Order in Council, made by her father, 
dividing the peninsula, and to restore the whole 
to him in virtue of his original grant. Somers 
and Sunderland advised Penn to send in a coun- 
ter-petition to the Queen. The Lords of Trade 
allowed the question to be opened ; but they were 
398 



CLOSING SCENES. 

unable to settle it on any satisfactory basis ; and 
finding their geography and law alike at fault, 
they had recourse to the old plan of asking the 
litigants to arrange it and report. Uncertainty 
about the boundary-lines soon lost itself in the 
prior question of title. Ptnn contended that his 
deeds were made out and were all but signed, 
when James had fled. High personages about the 
court were eager to obtain an American province ; 
among others, the Earl of Sutherland set up a 
claim to the Delaware and the government chose 
to consider its own claim to the territories on 
that river as something more than a pretence. 
When Colonel Gookin was sent out in 170S, and 
again when Sir AVilliam Keith was appointed gov- 
ernor in 1716. the minister gave his sanction with 
a special reservation of the supposed rights of the 
Crown in the Delaware province. 

Penn was now sixty-five years old. His health 
was failing; his imprisonment in the Old Bailey 
had given him a shock. He tried Brentwood ; he 
took a country seat at Ruscombe. Gleams of light 
broke in upon his later years —dreams of an un- 
attainable prosperity, which served at least to 
rouse his sinking spirits. Soon after he recov- 
ered his colony, reports arrived that a great sil- 
ver-mine had been discovered. A remonstrance 
which he wrote to America produced a good result, 
and the general peace gave reason to hope for a 
settlement of his old account with Spain. The 
silver mine on the report of which he built a 
pleasant castle in the air, was an illusion, but not 
a greater illusion than his claim on Spain. 

Penn reminded the people of Pennsylvania of 
the sleepless nights and toilsome days, the ex- 
pense the load of care, the personal dangers, the 
family misfortunes, which he had endured for them. 
299 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEx\N. 

What had they done for him? They had found 
a noble field for their capital and industry ; they 
had got lands, acquired political rights, enjoyed 
religious liberties; but. not yet satisfied with the 
enjoyment of these rights, with the increase of 
their worldly substance, they must turn upon him- 
self. He spoke to them of their past misdeeds, 
referred to their present unbecoming and uncivil 
attitude towards his person and government. He 
made to them a fatherly appeal. The Queen, he 
told them, was willing to buy his colony and an- 
nex it to her crown. In spite of their ill returns, 
he had been faithful to his promises. He put it 
to them, as men and Christians, whether they 
had used him fairly. While they had grown rich, 
he had become poor; while they had acquired 
power, he had lost it ; while they enjoyed through 
his toil and forethought, wealth, influence, and 
freedom, he had been reduced, through their neg- 
lect and avarice, to seek the shelter of a jail. He 
wished to have an answer to his question, whether 
they desired to sunder the old connexion? If it 
were so, let it be declared on a fair and full elec- 
tion, and his course would then be clear. 

The answer was emphatic. When the Assembly 
met after the general election, not a single man of 
the aggressive chamber was returned. The prov- 
ince had been stung with the reproaches of its 
founder, now in his old age enduring poverty 
brought on by his too great liberality ; and the 
session which ensued was the most harmonious 
and most useful in the history of the Assembly. 
Penn was gratified with this national response ; 
and the historian dwells on this brief interval of 
calm and rational legislation with the greater 
pleasure, since it was the last in which the founder 
had a conscious part. Before another gathering 
300 



CLOSING SCENES. 

of the members took place, his mind was over- 
thrown. 

His latest action on the colonial legislature was 
in behalf of the poor Negroes. Ten years before 
this period he had tried in vain to get a formal 
recognition of their claims as human beings ; but 
the question of slavery had been making progress, 
and his o^ati ideas had become less dark. He no 
longer doubted the injustice of the trade in man. 
Four years after the rejection of his bill for regu- 
lating the morals and marriages of Negroes the 
Assembly tried to discourage slavery by a duty 
on the importation of Negro slaves. In 1711 they 
passed an act prohibiting such importation for 
the future. But as soon as this good law reached 
England it was cancelled by the Crown. 

Some years before this time the two Houses of 
Parliament had put a declaration on the statute- 
book of the realm to the effect that the trade in 
slaves was highly beneficial to the country and 
the colonies. In the session then sitting (1711), 
a committee of the Commons recommended the 
adoption of means to increase the captures of 
Negroes, that their value might be reduced in the 
slave-markets of the plantations. The Privy Coun- 
cil was scandalised at a provincial Assembly for 
proposing measures hostile to the laws and inter- 
ests of the parent state. 

Peun passed much of his time in London, where 
he had a host of friends in office. Anne was par- 
tial to him. He was intimate with men on both 
sides of the royal gallery — with Tory earls as well 
as Whig lords. Sunderland was his friend ; Godol- 
phinwas his friend also. Lord Godolphin thought 
so highly of his honesty and talent that he often 
asked him to arrange political and personal mat- 
ters which required unusual tact. When Anne ap- 
301 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

])ointed Dartmouth Secretary of State in 1710 
Godolphin asked Penn to see Lord Dartmouth, 
and assure him that the Lord Treasurer was glad 
to have him as a colleague though he could not 
decently, considering his relations with Lord Sun- 
derland, say so openly and in person. Dartmouth 
was contented with the Earl's assurance of support. 
Early in 1712, Penn received the first of three 
shocks of paralysis, which laid his reason low. 
The first shock was not very bad, but in the fall 
of that year he had a second shock, from which 
he only rallied after several weeks. A third shock, 
far more violent than the first or second, took 
him in his fainting state. His daughter Lettie. 
and her husband. William Aubrey, were recalled 
to what was thought to be his dying bed. The 
younger children were about him, but his eldest 
boy. the son of Guli, was not there. Since his re- 
turn from Pennsylvania, and his public renuncia- 
tion of his father's sect, William Penn the younger 
had been less and less under the paternal roof. 
Marriage, and a home blessed with three children 
— Guli, Springett, and William— had produced no 
change. He went into the army, but he quitted it 
in disgust. He tried to get into Parliament, but 
his opponent bribed higher, and he was defeated 
at the poll. He sold the Springett estate in Kent, 
which he inherited under his mother's will. He 
quitted his young wife and children, leaving them 
to the care of strangers to seek the lowest dregs 
of pleasure and dissipation in the cities of Conti- 
nental Europe. He returned no more to England. 
A few years later his family heard that he was liv- 
ing in an obscure town in France, worn out, mor- 
ally and physically, ruined alike in purse and 
health. They never saw him more. The darker 
side of his story was never known to Penn, 



CLOSING SCENES. 

Penn's debility grew upon him. From the date 
of his third attack he was considered in a dying 
state ; but he lingered on in a gentle and sweet de- 
cline. To the devout it i-eemed a dispensation of 
Providence, that after i o 'ong a period of toil and 
trouble, his spirit should have found an interval 
of rest. Later on in his long illness, he felt a few 
more shocks, but they soon passed away, and his 
bodily health continued good. His temper was 
serene. He took an interest in the concerns, the 
pleasU";es, and the amusements of his young chil- 
dren; and the abandoned widow of his son was 
housed at Ruscombe with her little ones. \Yhen 
the sun was warm he took them out into the 
fields to gather flowers, and watch them chase 
butterflies. He was again a little child. When 
the weather was bad. he gambolled with them 
about the great mansion, taking an infantine 
pleasure in running from room to room in looking 
at the fine furniture and gazing from the great 
windows on the ^now or rain. Never before had 
he looked so happy. He could not speak very 
much, but a constant smile was on his face. It 
was only when he saw his wife looking anxious, 
or when on going into a room, he found her 
writing, that a shade of melancholy came into his 
eyes. Unable now to wi"ite, he yet retained a sense 
of trouble as connected with that wi'iting-desk. 
No daisies laughed among thot-e papers, and no 
linnets perched and sang among those shelves. 
His memory faded more and more ; he forgot the 
names of his intimate friends ; his powers of ut- 
terance left him; but the mild benignity of his 
character still came out. 

The two friends who were most frequently at his 
side during this long illness were Thonms Story 
and Heni-y Goldney. Neither was in good health; 
303 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

but they considered it a duty to be near their 
friend. Towards the end of July 1718, Story 
was at Ruscombe. assisting Mrs. Penn. On the 
27th he left on a trip to Bristol; Hannah Penn 
drove him in her coach to Reading; where she 
parted from him, with messages to John, her 
eldest son. When she returned to the house, Penn 
was no worse than he had been for days past. At 
noon next day a change occurred ; he was seized 
with fits. She wrote a letter to recall Story ; but 
he had gone too far; and she had to face the 
trials of the day unaided by a single friend. 

Cold shivers quickly followed raging heats. Her 
doctor thought an intermittent fever was setting 
in. On the 29th the patient had grown so much 
worse they could no longer entertain a hope. 
Hannah then sent a messenger with orders to ride 
post haste to Bristol, to summon her son John, 
now a man of three-and-twenty, to his father's 
bed. 

But death rode faster than her messenger. In 
the first watches of the summer morning, between 
two and three o'clock, he fell asleep. His widow 
watched his lips in agony and suspense. They 
never moved again. 

Penn was buried at the village of Jordans, on 
the 5th of August. 1718. by the side of GuH. his 
first wife, and Springett his first-born son. A 
crowd of people followed the bier from Ruscombe 
to the grave-yard, consisting of the most eminent 
Friends, from all parts of the country and the 
most distinguished of every Christian church near 
Ruscombe. Wlien the coffin was lowered into the 
grave a pause of silence followed ; after which the 
old and intimate friends of the dead spoke a few 
words to the assembly ; and the people went to 
their several homes subdued and chastened with 
304 



CLOSING SCENES. 

the thought that a good man and a great man, 
who had done his work and earned his rest had 
been laid that day upon the bosom of his mother 
earth. 



20 305 



SUPPLEMENTAEY CHAPTER. 

In the fii-ht edition of Macaulay's 'History of 
England.' apart from sneers and 'hesitations,' 
Penn was charged with five offences touching his 
character as a public man. 

He was represented as becoming such a servile 
courtier, that his owti sect looked coldly on him 
and requited his services with obloquy. He was 
represented as extorting money from the school- 
girls of Taunton, for a set of heartless Maids of 
Honour. He was represented as trying to seduce 
William Kiffin a fighting Baptist preacher into 
the acceptance of an alderman's gown, which gown 
Kiffin refused. He was repre ented as going over 
to the Hague in 1687. and trying to procure the 
Prince of Orange's suppoit of the King's Declara- 
tion for Liberty of Conscience. He was repre- 
sented as guilty of simony of a peculiarly disrep- 
utable kind in the affairs of Afagdalen College. 

The third charge has been modified tlie fourth 
withdrawn. The other charges stand in the Col- 
lected Works with such excuses as Macaulay had 
hastily put forth in his notes in 1857. 

That Macaulay contemplated making further 
changes in his text may be inferred from several 
signs. (1) After the year 18.57. he ceased his 
calumnies of Penn. In all the third part of his 
narrative contained in the fifth volume there is 
not a single charge, a single sneer though Penn 
w^as still before the public eye as busy with his 
colony and with his ministry as in the earlier 
time. (2) His indexes were changed in the direc- 
tion of a much more favourable view of Penn's 
306 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

character and conduct. In the first index we read : 
' Failure of his attempted mediation with the Fel- 
lows of Magdalen ;' in the amended index we read : 
' Negotiates with the Fellows of Magdalen'— a very 
different thing. The first index refers to 'his 
scandalous Jacobitism ;' the amended index drops 
the 'scandalous' Jacobitism. The firi-t index de- 
nounces 'his falsehood;' the amended index sub- 
stitutes 'held to bail.' The first index says Penn 
'takes part in a Jacobite conspiracy ;' the amended 
index says he 'joins the Jacobite conspiracy,' 
replacing the active by the passive the partic- 
ular by the general. In the first index, Penn is 
'charged by Preston with treasonable conduct;' 
in the amended index, he is merely 'informed 
against by Preston.' In the first index, 'he con- 
ceals himself;' in the amended index, he no longer 
conceals himself. In the first index Penn's inter- 
view with Sydney is 'singular;' in the amended 
index, it has ceased to be 'singular.' In the first 
index, Penn 'escapes to France;' in the amended 
index, there is nothing about an escape to France. 
In the first index, he 'returns to England and re- 
news his plots ;' in the amended index there is not 
a word about returning to England and renewing 
his plots. That all these changes in the index 
meant a reconsideration of the text, can hardly 
be denied by any one who knows the principle on 
which Macaulay worked. (3) It is now no secret, 
that he was engaged during the last few days of his 
life, in a review of the evidence produced against 
his character of Penn. 

Macaulay was removed before this portion of 
his labour was achieved ; and thus the duty comes 
to me again of citing dates and facts in proof that 
every statement made by the historian to the in- 
jury of William Penn is founded on mistakes of 
307 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

time, of person and of place. I't is a painful duty, 
but I must not shrink from it. The highest fealty 
of a public writer is to truth. 

I. Writing of Penn in 1685, Macaulay had said : 

' He was soon surrounded by flatterers and syco- 
phants He paid dear, however, for this 

seeming prosperity. Even his own sect looked 
coldly on him, and requited his services with 
obloquy.' — Hist, of England, i. 506. 

This statement was confronted with the records 
at Devonshire House, in the City. Penn appears 
from these records to have been in regular at- 
tendance at the Society's Meetings all this year. 
He was elected to the highest offices in his Soci- 
ety. Strong evidence would be required in face of 
such facts, that in this year of Penn's court life 
' his own sect looked coldly on him, and requited 
his services with obloquy.' No evidence, either 
strong or weak, is adduced by Macaulay. 

II. Writing in his first edition of the Taunton 
ransom, Macaulay had said :— 

'An order was sent to Taunton that all these 
little girls should be seized and imprisoned. Sir 
Francis Ware of Hestercombe, the Tory member 
for Bridgewater, was requested to undertake the 
office of exacting the ransom. He was charged to 
declare in strong language that the Maids of 
Honor would not endure delay, that they were 
determined to prosecute to outlawry, unless a rea- 
sonable sum were forthcoming, and that by a 
reasonable sum they meant seven thousand 
pounds. Warre excused himself from taking any 
part in a transaction so scandalous. The Maids 
of Honour then requested William Penn to act for 
them; and Penn accepted the commission. Yet 
it should seem that a little of the pertinacious 
308 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

scrupulosity which he had often shown about tak- 
ing off his hat would not have been altogether 
out of place on this occasion. He probably si- 
lenced the remonstrance of his conscience by 
repeating, &c.'—Hist. of England, 1. 656. 

It was proved in answer that Penn was not re- 
quested to act ; that he never accepted any com- 
mission ; that he had nothing to do with the bus- 
iness. 

Macaulay quoted Locke's 'Western Rebellion,' 
Toulmin's 'History of Taunton,' Letter of Sun- 
derland to Penn Feb. 18, 1686. But this appear- 
ance of authority was quite fallacious. 

Locke never mentions Penn at all; Toulmin 
never mentions Penn at all; Somerset never men- 
tions Penn at all. The four authorities dwindle 
down to one authoiity— 'Sunderland's Letter to 
Penn, Feb. 13, 1686,' cited by Macaulay from 'the 
Mackintosh Papers.' Luckily we know where 
Mackintosh found this pretended ' Letter to Penn,' 
and on referring to the State Papers find it is not 
a letter to Penn at all. but a letter to ' Mr. Penne' 
(a Mr. George Penne) who was engaged in selling 
pardons to those who had been compromised by 
Monmouth's rising. Here is a copy from Lord 
Sunderland's Letter-book in the State Paper 
Office :— 

nmtehaU, Feb. 13, 1685-6. 

'Mr. Penne— Her Majesty's Maids of Honour 
having acquainted me that they designe to employ 
you and Mr. Walden in making a composition 
with the relations of the Maids of Taunton for the 
high misdemeanour they have guilty of I do at 
their request hereby let you know that His Maj- 
esty has been pleased to give their fines to the 
said Maids of Honour, and therefore recommend it 
to Mr. Walden and you to make the most advan- 
tageous composition you can in their behalfe. I 
309 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

am, Sir, your humble servant. Sunderland/— 
Domestic papers, various. 629. 424. 

That this letter was addressed to Mr. Penne. 
and not to William Penn , is evident. It bears his 
name; it refers to his peculiar trade; it engages 
him to do for one set of clients the sort of busi- 
ness he was doing for another set of clients. Mr. 
George Penne was a hanger-on at court, with no 
objection to the dirty work by which money could 
be made. We find him on the scene ; we find him 
vending royal pardons ; and we find him claiming 
the reward which that peculiar service would de- 
serve. The man was worthy of the work he had 
to do and his reward was worthy of such work 
when it is done. 

In a cash-book of the time, still preserved by the 
Pinney family at Somerton Erlegh House, I find 
this entry : — 

'Bristol, Sept. 1685. 

'Mr. John Pinney is debitor to money pd. 
George Penne. Esquire, for the ransom of my 
Bro. Aza. August. 1685. . . . £65.' 

The Pinneys were a good west-country family. 
John Pinney. the father of Azariah. was a clergy- 
man Rector of Norton-sub-Hamdan. by Yeovil. 
Others of the house took part in Monmouth's ris- 
ing, and were sentenced to death. Abraham Pin- 
ney was hung at Taunton. Azariah was con- 
demned to death ; but his life was given to Jerome 
Nepho who was to take him out to the island of 
Nevis near St. Kits in the West Indies. But the 
Pinneys called in the court traflBcker in ransoms. 
Mr. Penne. through whom they bought his free- 
dom, at a cost of sixty-five pounds. In the year 
but one following his work at Taunton, Mr. Penne 
310 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

eent in his claim to the King — a claim to set up 
gaming-tables in the colonies. In the Privy Coun- 
cil Register of James the Second I find this 
entry : — 

'Xov. 25, 1687. 

'George Penne. — Upon reading the petition cf 
George Penne. gent, setting forth that his family 
having been great sufferers for their loyalty, he 
humbly begs that his Majesty would be graciously 
pleased to grant him a patent for the sole exercis- 
ing the royal Oake lottery, and licensing all other 
games in his Majesty's plantations in America for 
twenty-one years. His Majesty in Council i.s 
pleased to refer this matter to the consideration 
of the Rt. Hon. the Lords Commissioners of the 
Treasury, and upon what their lordships report of 
what is fit to be done therein for the petitioner 
his Majesty will declare his further pleasure.* — 
Council Reg. i. 540. 

Now. what pretence on earth is there for saying 
that this letter to ' Mr. Penne' was addressed to 
William Penn? (1) It does not bear his name. 
He never spelt his name Penne. Lord Sunder- 
land, the writer, had been his friend since they 
were boys ; and Sunderland never spelt his friend's 
name Penne. (2) It is evidently written, not to 
a gentleman and a friend, but to a low-class agent. 
The maids 'designe to employ you and Mr. Wal- 
den ;' they 'recommend it to Mr. Walden and you.' 
Penn was one of the first men in London ; he had 
declined a peerage ; he was the lord proprietor of 
a colony almost as large as England. (8) Not a 
word occurs in any letter, paper, memoir, or pe- 
tition of that period hinting that he was 'em- 
ployed in the affair.' 

What said Macaulay in reply to this array of 
facts?— 

'That the person to whom this letter was ad- 
311 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

dressed was William Penn the Quaker was n(3t 
doubted by Sir James Mackintosh, who first 
brought it to light, or. as far as I am aware, by 
any other person till after the publication of the 
first part of this history. It has since been confi- 
dently asserted that the letter was addressed to a 
certain George Penne who appears from an old 
account-book lately discovered to have been con- 
cerned in a negotiation for the ransom of one of 
Monmouth's followers named Azariah Pinney. If 
I thought that I had committed an error I 
should, I hope have the honesty to acknowledge 
it. But after full consideration I am satisfied 
that Sunderland's letter was addressed to William 
Penn. Much has been said about the way in 
which the name is spelt. The Quaker we are told , 
was not Mr. Penne but Mr. Penn. I feel assured 
that no person conversant with the books and 
manuscripts of the seventeenth century will attach 
any importance to this argument. It is notorious 
that a proper name was then thought to be well 
spelt if the sound were preserved. To go no 
further than the persons who in Penn's time 
held the Great Seal one of them is sometimes 
Hyde and sometimes Hide: another is Jefferies, 
Jeffries Jeffereys. and Jeffreys : a third is Somers 
Sommers. and Summers : a fourth is Wright and 
Wrighte ; and a fifth is Cowper and Cooper. The 
Quaker's name was spelt in three ways. He and 
his father the Admiral before him, invariably, as 
far as I have observed spelt it Penn : but most 
people spelt it Pen; and there were some who 
adhered to the ancient form Penne. For example 
William the father is Penne in a letter from Dis- 
browe to Thurloe dated on the 7th of December, 
1654; and William the son is Penne in a news- 
letter of the 22nd of September 1688 printed in 
the Ellis Correspondence. In Richard Ward's 
" Life and Letters of Henry More " printed in 
1710 the name of the Quaker will be found spelt 
in all three ways — Penn in the index Pen in i)age 
197 and Penne in page 811 The name is Penne 
in the Commission which the Admiral carried out 
with him on his expedition to the West Indies, 
Burchett. who became Secretary to the Admiralty 
soon after the Revolution, and remained in oflSce 
312 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

long after the accession of the House of Hanover, 
always, in his ''Naval History " wrote the name 
Penne. Surely it cannot be thought strange that 
an old-fashioned spelling, in which the Secretary of 
the Admiralty persisted so late as 1720 should 
have been used at the office of the Secretary of 
State in 1686. I think myself, therefore perfectly 
justified in considering the names, Penn and 
Penne, as the same.' 

Perfectly justified 1 How would Macaulay have 
described such reasoning in another man? Dis- 
browe misspelt the name of Penn ; Burchett mis- 
spelt the name of Penn. ^Yhat then? Would Bur- 
chett's blunder prove that Sunderland could not 
spell the name of a man whom he had known for 
twenty years? The question of spelling amounts 
to this, and no more. A letter was found ad- 
dressed to Mr. Penne. There is a Mr. Penne. lie 
spells his name Penne. Sunderland spells his name 
Penne. The Pinney family spell his name Penne. 
The Lords of the Privy Council spell his name 
Penne. Everybody spells his name Penne. In 
deeds, petitions, Acts of Parliament, it is always 
Penne. Mr. Penne is a pardon-broker. He is 
down at Taunton. He is actually engaged in sell- 
ing pardons. Why, then since there is a man 
whose name the letter does bear — who is a known 
pardon-broker, actually engaged at the time in 
Taunton selling pardons— go in search of a man 
whose name it does not bear, and who is not 
kno\\Ti to have been connected with the sale of 
pardons, either at Taunton or at any other to^\Ti? 
But having argued that the question is open, 
Macaulay next assumes that it is so. ' To which 
then of the two persons who bore that name is 
it probable that the letter of the Secretary of 
State was addressed?' This is petition with a 
vengeance. Which of the two bore that name? 
318 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Penn never bore that name at all. No proof is 
given that Sunderland ever thought he bore that 
name. It is not here a question of Burchett's in- 
accuracy, but of Sunderland's accuracy. Sunder- 
land, a friend of many years, was not a likely 
man to misspell the name of Penn of Pennsylva- 
nia. Macaulay added :— 

'But it is said, Sunderland's letter is dry and 
distant ; and he never would have written in such 
a style to William Penn with whom he was on 
friendly terras. Can it be necessary for me to 
reply that the official communications which a 
Minister of State makes to his dearest friends and 
nearest relations are as cold and formal as those 
which he makes to strangers? Will it be con- 
tended that the General Wellesley. to whom the 
Marquess Wellesley when Governor of India ad- 
dressed so many letters beginning with ''Sir." and 
ending with "I have the honour to be your olbedi- 
ent servant " cannot possibly have been his lord- 
ship's brother Arthur? .... Nothing can be 
more clear than that the authorized agent of the 
Maids of Honour was the Mr. Penne to whom the 
Secretary of State wrote ; and I firmly believe that 
Mr. Penn to have been William the Quaker.' 

I firmly believe ! Not a scrap of evidence be- 
yond Burchett's blunder— nothing but 'I firmly 
believe' — in face of every proof direct and in- 
direct. 

111. In wTiting of William Kiffin, a wealthy 
Baptist minister, whom the King desired to con- 
ciliate, Macaulay had said : — 

'The heartless and mad sycophants of Whitehall, 
judging by themselves thought that the old man 
would be easily propitiated by an alderman's 
gown and by some compensation in money for the 
property which his grandson had forfeited. Penn 
was employed in the work of seduction, but to no 
purpose." — Hist. Eng. ii. 230. 
81-4 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

To this assertion were opposed the facts as 
thej are stated by KifSn himself. Macaulay says 
that Penn was employed by the heartless syco- 
phants of the court to seduce KiflBn into accept- 
ing an alderman's gown, and that he failed; two 
facts asserted ; neither of them true. As to Fact 
the first, we read in KiflSn's autobiography : — 

' A great temptation attended me which was a 
commission from the king to be one of the alder- 
men of the city of London, which, as soon as 1 
heard of it, 1 used all diligence I could to be ex- 
cused, both by some lords near the King and also 
by Sir Nicholas Butler and Mr. Penn.'— ivi^'n'.s 
Mem. p. 85. 

Kifiin states exactly the reverse of what Ma- 
caulay cites. Penn does not go to Kiffin; KiflBn 
goes to Penn. Instead of being employed in the 
task of seduction, he is engaged in the work of 
mediation. In excuse, Macaulay quoted a portion 
of a sentence following that just given : — 

' But it was all in vain ; I was told that they 
(Nicholas and Penn) knew I had an interest that 
might serve the king.' 

I hardly hope to be credited, except on refer- 
ence, when I say that the names of Nicholas and 
I'enn are not in Kifiin's text ! These names are 
added by Afacaulay to the sentence cited from 
him. Butler and Penn could never have been 
named by KiflSn in this scandalous connexion, 
since they were engaged by him to do him good 
at court. The men who told Kifiin he had an in- 
terest that might serve the King, and that he 
might hope to be paid in either honour or ad- 
vantage for employing it, were the courtiers, not 
his own mediators. 

315 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENX. 

As to Fact the second— ' employed to no pur- 
pose' — KiflBn's refusal of the aldermanic govMi, I 
quoted KiflBn's words:— 'The next court day I 
came to the court and took upon me the office of 
alderman.' (Kif. Mem. 87.) Such words permit 
no fencing; so a paragraph was added to Ma- 
caulay's text, confessing that after all Kiffin took 
the gown. (Coll. Worki^, ii. 55.) 

IV. Penn's visit to the Hague in 1687 to per- 
suade William of Orange to support the Declara- 
tion of Liberty of Conscience (which Macaulay 
styles throughout a Declaration of Indulgence) . 
has been abandoned. As the passage s-tands. it 
is absurd though not malignant; for the change 
of date and topic throws a sentence on Penn's 
conversation with William of Orange about the 
Tetst Act of 1686, into the middle of a long para- 
graph about the Declaration of Liberty of Con- 
science in 1687. 

V. Writing in his first edition of the Magdalen 
College business, Macaulay said :— 

'The agency of Penn was employed 

Penn exhorted the Fellows not to rely on the 
goodness of tneir cause but to submit, or at least 
to temporise He did not scruple to be- 
come a broker in simony of a peculiarly disreputa- 
able kind.'— y//,s/. Eng. ii. 298. 

No authority was cited for this assertion that 
' Penn was employed' by the Court. No author- 
ity could be cited, for the statement is untrue, in 
letter and in spirit. Nay. the very opposite of 
what was said is true. Instead of Penn being 
'employed' by the Court, he was engaged in be- 
half of the Fellows. This is not a fact of infer- 
ence and conjecture. Clear, abundant and deci» 
316 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

ive proofs exist (1) that Penn was not employed 
in the work of seduction, and (2) that he was 
engaged in the task of mediation. The first proofs 
are necessarily negative ; the second are necessarily 
positive. 

I have in my possession transcripts of all the 
letters wTitten by Arnout Van Citters, the Dutch 
agent in England, on the Magdalen affair. Van 
Citters travelled \%itli the King, and sent from 
day to day minute accounts of what was being 
done in this affair, especially by the Court. In all 
this correspondence of Van Citters ^ith the States- 
General, there is not a trace of any employment 
of Penn ; though Penn is constantly mentioned in 
other matters, and was certain to be named by 
Van Citters in connexion with Magdalen, had 
his agency been 'employed.' (Letters from Batlt, 
Sejjt. 17, from Windsor, Oct. 14, from Westminster, 
Oct. 31, Nov. 4, 7, 11, 25, 28, Dec. 2, 5, 9, 16, 
19, 23; originals in the Secret Box, marked 
England, No. 193.) 

So far the negative evidence; the positive evi- 
dence is that of the Fellows themselves. The first 
mention of Penn in the affair is on the 6th of Sep- 
tember (1687). when Mr. Creech writes to Mr. 
Charlett : — 

'On Monday morning Mr. Penn, the Quaker 
(with whom I dined the day before and had a 
long discourse concerning the college), urote a 
lettrr to the King in their behalf.'— Ballard MSS. Bod. 
O.rf 

Next day, Mr. Sykes, another Fellow, writes to 
Charlett : — 

' Mr. Penn rode down to Magdalen College just 
before he left this place, and after some discourse 
with the Fellows wrote a short letter to the King.' 

—;Sgkcs to Charlett, Sept. 7, Ball. MSS. 
317 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

Four weeks later, when Bailey writes to Penn :— 

'You who have been already so kind as to ap- 
pear in our behalf. — Baily, Oct. 3, printed in State 
Trials, xii. 22. 

In face of all these proofs — names, dates, and 
facts — that Penn was acting on behalf of the Col- 
lege at the instance of Creech, and by desire 
of the whole body of Fellows, not on the 'em- 
ployment" of the King. Macaulay's text re- 
mains ! 

Macaulay's warrant for asserting that Penn "ex- 
horted the Fellows to submit, or at least to tem- 
porise.' is a letter — an anonymous letter, which 
was sent by some one to Bailey during the dis- 
pute. The writer of that letter recommended the 
Fellows to temporise ; but the wTiter of that let- 
ter was not WUliam Penn. Bailey, indeed when 
he received the letter, thought. " from the charita- 
ble purpose,' that it might have come from such 
a man as Penn; and so it got into print as a 
note 'supposed to be writ by Mr. William Penn.' 
(State Trials, xii. 21.) Yet e^-idence of many 
kinds exist to prove that it was not ' writ by Mr. 
Penn.' Except 'the charitable purpose.' there is 
not one touch of Penn in either form or style. It 
opens, 'Sir.' and Bailey is addressed throughout 
as 'you;' two forms which Penn had ceased to 
use for twenty years. There is a second proof; 
for Bailey put the writer to a test which satisfied 
him that his correspondent was some other man 
than Penn. He answered the anonymous letter by 
a letter also anonymous, which he forwarded to 
Penn inviting him to answer, saying if Penn had 
wTitten the first letter, he would know where to 
send his reply. No answer came. There is a third 
and stronger proof behind. Hunt, as one of the 
318 



SUPPLEME.NTAKY CHAPTER. 

offending Fellows had to see Penn shortly after- 
wards at Windsor, where he seems to have shown 
him the anonymous letter. Penn denied all knowl- 
edge of it. The contemporary manuscript at Mag- 
dalen College has a note in Hunt's hand-writing, 
'This letter Mr. Penn disowned.' — Hunt MS. fo. 
45. Magdalen College, MSS. 

What said Macaulay to these facts? He 
vNTote : — 

' It has lately been asserted that Penn most cer- 
tainly did not write this letter. Now the evidence 
which proves the letter to be his is irresistible. 
Bailey to whom the letter was addressed ascribed 
it to Penn and sent an answer to Penn. In a 
very short time both the letter and the answer 
appeared in print. Many thousands of copies were 
circulated. Penn was pointed out to the whole 
world as the author of the letter: and it is not 
pretended that he met this public accusation with 
a public contradiction. Everybody therefore be- 
lieved, and was perfectly warranted in believing, 
that he was the author. The letter was repeatedly 
quoted as his during his own lifetime not merely 
in fugitive pamphlets such as " The History of the 
Ecclesiastical Commission * pubhshed in 1711. 
but in grave and elaborate books which were 
meant to descend to posterity. Boyer. in his 
''History of William the Third " printed immedi- 
ately after t' at king's death and reprinted in 
1703 pronouncad the letter to be Penn's and 
added some severe reflections on the writer. Ken- 
net in the bulky "History of England" published 
in 1706 — a history which had a large sale and 
produced a great sensation — adopted the very 
words of Boyer. When these works api)eared, 
Penn was not only alive but in the full enjoyment 
of his faculties. He cannot have been ignorant of 
the charge brought against him by writers of so 
much note; and it was not his practice to hold 
his peace when unjust charges were brought 
against him even by obscure scribblers. ... In 
the year of his death appeared Eachards huge 
volume, containing the History of England from 
319 



LIFE OF WILLIAM I'ENN. 

the Restoration to the Revolution ; and Eachard, 
though often differing with Boyer and Kennet, 
agreed with them in unhesitatingly ascribing the 
letter to Penn. Such is the evidence on one side. 
1 am not aware that any evidence deserving a 
serious answer has been produced on the other. 
(1857.)' 

Such is the 'evidence on one side.' One man 
' ascribes' the letter to Penn ; a second ' prints' it 
as Penn's ; a third ' quotes' it as Penn's. Now the 
first man, Bailey, 'ascribed' it to Penn for a mo- 
ment only. The second ' printed' it only as ' sup- 
posed to be writ' by Penn. The others 'quoted' 
it in ignorance. It is the first time such a rule 
has ever been laid down in either law or letters, 
that when a falsehood has been quoted three times 
it becomes a truth. 

No evidence on the other side 1 The letter is not 
in Penn's hand. Is that evidence nothing? The 
letter is not signed by Penn. Is that evidence 
nothing? It is not in Penn's style. Is that evi- 
dence nothing? It contains words that Penn never 
uses. Is that evidence nothing? It is den ed by 
Penn. Is that evidence nothing? This denial is 
made to the Fellows themselves. Is that evidence 
nothing? The document containing Hunt's mem- 
orandum of the denial is preserved at Magdalen 
College. Is that evidence nothing? 

The authority for Macaulay's assertion that 
Penn ' did not scruple to become a broker in sim- 
ony of a peculiarly disreputable kind.' is Hough's 
letter (printed in WImofs 'Life of Ilovgh,'' 25) , 
describing a meeting which the Fellows had with 
Penn. 

Macaulay's story of this meeting is a comedy of 
errors. He is wrong on every point — the time, the 
'place ^ the method, and the motive, of this inter- 
:i20 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTEB. 

view. Macaulay describes the ihnc of meeting as 
immediately after James left Oxford, while the 
King was 'greatly incensed and mortified by his 
defeat.' This was early in September. The meet- 
ing was not really held till five weeks later ; Octo- 
ber 9, 1687. {Life of Hough, 22.) Macaulay 
gives the jjhfce as Oxford. It was really held at 
Eton, near Windsor, where Penn had then a coun- 
try house {Lawtoii's Mem, in Penn, Ifisf. Soc. 
}fem. in. p. 11, 218; Life of Hough, 23.) Macau- 
lay described the met] tod of this interview as a 
visit made by Penn to Hough and other Fellows. 
The actual method was a deputation from the 
College to Penn ; a deputation of which Hough 
was the head ; a deputation which had to follow 
Penn to Eton and to ask his leave to occupy a 
morning of his time. (Life of Hough, 22-3.) Ma- 
caulay describes the motive of the interview as a 
design of Penn to make the Fellows compromise 
their course. The actual motive was a strong 
desire on the part of Hough and other Fellows to 
procure Penn's powerful mediation and support 
with James. To this one end they followed him 
to Eton ; and to this one end they begged him to 
receive them. As their friend, he saw them ; as 
their friend, he wished he had been concerned for 
them a little sooner; as their friend, he feared he 
was too late a-field to help them; as their friend, 
he assured them he had the welfare of their college 
at heart. Penn detained the Fellows upwards of 
three hours : read the whole of their papers and 
petitions : and promised he would try to read the 
whole of them to James. (Life of Hough, 23-5.) 

Yet all these errors as to time, place, method, 
and motive, stand untouched in the Collected 
Works ! 

Macaulay, speaking of this interview (which 
21 321 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PEW. 

he supposes Penn to have sought in the inter- 
est of James not the Fellows to have sought 
in the interest of their College) . says that Penn 
' began to hint at a compromise ' and thence pro- 
ceeds to his charge of ' simony of a peculiarly dis- 
reputable kind.' I quoted Hough's own words 
which show that Penn was so completely on their 
side, that even for the sake of peace, this great 
apostle of non-resistance would not hint that they 
should yield the point. ' I thank God ' said Hough. 
' he did not so much as offer at any proposal by 
way of accommodation, which was the thing I most 
dreaded.' {Life of Hough, 2^.) 
To this Macaulay answered : — 

' Here again I have been accused of calumniating 
Penn; and some show of a case has been made 
out by suppression amounting to falsification. It 
is asserted that Penn did not "begin to hint at a 
compromise;" and in proof of this assertion a few 
words quoted from the letter in which Hough 
gives an account of the interview are printed in 
italics. These words are ** I thank God he did not 
offer any proposal by way of accommodation." 
These words, taken by themselves, undoubtedly 
seem to prove that Penn did not begin to hint at 
a compromise. But their effect is very different 
indeed when they are read in connexion with 
words which immediately follow, without the in- 
tervention of a full stop but which have been 
carefully suppressed. The whole sentence runs 
thus : — 'I thank God he did not offer any proposal 
by way of accommodation ; only once u})on the 
mention of the Bisho]) of Oxford's indisposition he 
said, smiling. "If the Bishop of Oxford die Dr. 
Hough may be made bishop. What think you of 
that gentlemen?'" Can anything be clearer than 
that the latter part of the sentence limits the 
general assertion contained in the former ])art? 
Everybody knows that onhi is perpetually used as 
synonymous with except fJiat. Instances will 
readily occur to all who are well acquainted with 
322 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

the English Bible —a book from the authority of 
which there is no appeal when the question is 
about the force of an English word. We read in 
the book of Genesis, to go no further, that trenj 
living thing was destroyed ; and Xoah onlii re- 
and that Joseph bought all the land of Egypt for 
Pharoah; onJij the land of the priests bought he 
not. The defenders of Penn reason exactly like a 
commentator who should construe these passages 
to mean that Xoah was drowned in the flood and 
that Joseph bought the land of the priests for 
Pharaoh. (1857:)' 

And so the passage stands I 

These five charges were contained in the first 
part of Macaulay's History, volumes i. and ii.. 
and were answered at the time. The second por- 
tion of his 'History' continued the abuse, 

Penn. according to Macaulay. was a scandalous 
Jacobite. He tried to bring a foreign army into 
England. He told the King a falsehood, which 
William probably knew to be a falsehood. He 
narrowly escaped arrest for conspiracy at the 
grave of Fox. He told Sydney something very 
like a lie. and confirmed that lie with something 
very like an oath. He stole down to the Sussex 
coast and thence escaped to France. He exhorted 
James to make a descent on England with thirty 
thousand men. 

Not one of these seven passages was true ; not 
even colourably true; as I must now proceed to 
show. 

VI. That Penn was *a" scandalous Jacobite is 
one of those false charges which have been struck 
out of the later index, with a view (it is to be 
supposed) of its being ultimately struck out of 
the text in which it now unhappily stands : — 

'The conduct of Penn was . . . scandalous. 
He was a zealous and busy Jacobite.'— Co//. 
Works, iii. 261. 

323 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

That Penn was not a Jacobite at all— that is 
to say. a man who either shared in James's poli- 
tics when he was king or strove to bring him back 
when he had lost his crown— can easily be shown. 
Penn was the friend of Sydney. Locke, and Som- 
ers; and the followers of Monmouth set him down 
in their private lists as one of those powerful men 
who might be counted on by them for sympathy 
and help. The wi'iting of that time is full of evi- 
dence that Penn was a Reformer, not a Jacobite. 



Hough writes : — 

'He gave an account in short of his acquaint- 
ance with the king ; assured us it was not popery, 
but property, that first began it; that honest 
people were pleased to call him Papist he was a 
dissenting Protestant ; that he dissented from 
Papists in almost all those points wherein we 
differ from them, and many wherein we and they 
are Sigreed.'—Wilmot's Life of Hoiigli, 22. 

Clarendon writes : — 

' Penn laboured to thwart the Jesuitical influence 
that predominated.'— 7J<ar?/, June 23, 1688. 

Arnaut Van Citters writes :— 

'One of these days the well-known Archquaker 
Penn had a long interview with the King and as 
he said to one of his friends has shown to the 
King that the Parliament would never agree to 
the revocation of the Test Act and of the penal 
laws and that he never would get a Parliament 
to his mind as long as he did not go to work 
with greater moderation and drive away from his 
Dresence. or at least not listen to, those immod- 
erate Jesuits and other Papists who surround him 
daily, and whose immoderate advice he now fol- 
lows, since the nation and the very Dissenters 
324 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

themselves are too strongly opposed to them and 
entertain great apprehensions of them ; moreover 
that he has advised the King, as long as his 
affairs at home are so changeable and remain in 
so great uncertainty, above all to be cautious in 
his connexion with France.' — ]'<(ii. Citiers to Grand 
Pensioners, Windsor, Jidy 19-29. 1687. 

Johnstone says expressly that Penn was against 
the Order in Council commanding that the clergy 
should read his Declaration of Liberty of Con- 
science from their pulpits. — Johnstone Correspon. 
May 23. 1688; Mack. 241. n. Lawton says that 
Penn advised the King to liberate the seven Bish- 
ops, and on the- birth of his son, the Prince of 
Wales, to issue a general pardon for all offences 
against his crovra.— J/em. Penn, Hist. iii. p. 11. 
220. 

Gerard Croese writes : — 

'Penn told the Council that the reason why. 
although he felt gratefull to James personally he 
did not wish to see him back as king now that he 
had never been able to agree with him in public 
affairs.'— ///.s'. Quak. 379. 

VIl. It is alleged that Penn tried to bring a 
foreign army into England :— 

' It is melancholy to relate that Penn while pro- 
fessing to consider even defensive war as sinful 
did everything in his power to bring a foreign 
enemy into the heart of his country. He wrote to 

inform James, kc Avaux thought this 

letter so important that he sent a translation of 
it to Louis.'— ///.s7. of Eng. iii. 587. 

Not a word of this paragraph is true in either 
form or substance. The authority cited is a let- 
ter from Avaux to Louis. June 5 1689 accom- 
panied by a note of news. The errors as to form 
325 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

are grave enough. ' Penn wrote to inform James' 
— Avaux does not say so. 'Avaux thought this 
letter so important that he sent a translation of 
it to Louis'— Avaux never says he thinks it of 
much importance ; he says nothing of translating 
it, and he encloses no copy of it to Louis. But 
errors of form are nothing when compared against 
errors of substance. Macaulay is ^Tong as to the 
time supposed ; wrong as to the place supposed ; 
wrong as to the person supposed. Here is Avaux's 
letter in full :— 

'A Dublin, le 5 Jum, 1689. 

'Sire — Je n'ay pu envoyer A vostre Maiest<^ la 
lettre que j'ay eu I'honneur de luy escrire le 27 du 
mois passe, avec le duplicata des precedentes 
parceque le Roy d'Angleterre n'a point fait partir 
de bastimens de ce pays cy. 11 nous est venu 
depuis cela des nouvelles assez considerables d'An- 
gleterre et d'Escosse. Jeme donne Thonneur den 
envoyer lesm' moires a vostre Maiest' tels que je 
les ay recus du Roy de la Grande Bretagne. 

' Le commencement des nouvelles datees d'Angle- 
terre, est la copie d'une lettre de M. Pen que j'ay 
veue en original. On pent juger pars tout ces 
memoires que si Sa Maieste Britannique estoit en 
estat d'entrer en Angleterre, elle recouveroit bien- 
tost cette couronne mais il ne le pent sans la pro- 
tection de vostre Maieste, que verra mieux que 
moy par ces relations cy. ce qu'il y auroit a faire 
pour le Roy d'Angleterre. si neantmoins vostre 
Maiest J me permet de luy dire non sentiment je 
trouve qu'un secours d'argent avec un bon corps 
de troupes Francoises, est le plus court moyen 
qu'il ait de remettre le Roy d'Angleterre en estat 
de se restablir sur le throsne et cet effort qu'on 
feroit A cette heure delivreroit vostre Maiest' 
dans la suitte d'une plus grands despense qu'elle 
sera peutestre obligoe de faire. 

'Le bon effet. Sire que ces lettres d'Escosse et 
d'Angleterre ont produit est qu'elles ont enfin 
P-Tsuade le Roy d'Angleterre qu'il recouvrera ses 
326 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

estats que les armes ft la main et ce n'est pas peu 
que de Ten avoit convaincu car cela luj fera 
l)rendre d'autres mesures qu'il n'a fait jusques A 
cette heure. qu'il a cru devoir menager les Anglois 
pour les ravoir par ainitic. 

'Le Roy d'Angleterre a resolu de faire partir 
incessament un secours de inille ou douze cens 
hommes, qu'il a dessein il y a desja quelque temps 
d'envoyer en Escosse.' 

The note enclosed by Avaux as a summary of 
his news is in the following words :— 

^MEMOIRE DE NOUVELLES d'aXGLETERRE ET 

d'escosse. 

'Le Prince d'Orange commence d'estre fort 
degoutte de I'humeur des Anglois. et la face des 
choses change bien viste selon le naturel des in- 
sulaires. et sa sante est fort mauvais. II y a un 
nuage qui commence a se former an nord des deux 
royaumes oii le Roy a beaucoup d'amis ce qui 
donne beaucoup d'inquietude aux principaux amis 
du Prince d'Orange. qui estant riches, commencent 
:i estre persuadez que ce sera I'espee qui decidera 
de leur sort, ce qu'ils ont tant tache d'eviter. lis 
aprehendent une invasion de France et d'lrlande 
et en ce cas le Roy aura plus d'amis que jamais. 
Le commerce est mine, tant par les Turcs, que par 
r apprehension d'une guerre avec la France et 
encore pas nostre flotte mesme qui prend tons tes 
esquipages des vaisseaux marchands, sans en 
excepter que le maistre et un gar^on pour chaque 
bastiment ce que rend le trafBcq si difficile que les 
marchands s'en plaignent hautement. 

' Les divisions sont considerables parmi les 
grands et il y a une grande jalousie parmu les 
Anglois. qui commencent a descouvrir que toutes 
choses se font par les conseils des Hollandois. 
L'Eglise Anglicane voit son sort dans le procede 
du Prince d'Orange en Escosse oil il a chasse les 
evesques Protestans. Les bons sujets du Roy 
souhaittent de le voir au plustost avec un bonne 
armee au lien que toute capitulation. Herbert est 
venu dans Milfort Haven, sa flotte toute en 
327 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

desordre, ce qui augmente beaucoup les desordres 
dans le pays. Depuis par des coiirriers qui arri- 
vent chaque semaine. on est informe. Que le 
Prince d'Orange se defie non seulement des vieilles 
troupes que Sa Maiest ■ laissa en Angleterre, niais 
de presque tons les Anglois et Ion croit que si Sa 
Maieste arrive bien escortee dans le pays le Parle- 
nient niesme se declareroit pour elle, Les gens se 
defient tant du suecez de ce que le Prince d\)range 
a fait, qu'ils ne veulent point prester d'argent sur 
la foy Actes de Parlenient, et mesme ceux qui en 
out presto donnent dix sur cent pour I'assurer. 
Le Prince d'Orange a cassj les deux Colonels 
Coningham et Richard, pour n'avoir pas secoura 
Londonderry, et fait des efforts pour y envoyer 
des autres troupes mais I'allarme du cost' d'Es- 
cosse estant plus pressante, i' s'est content(' d'en- 
voyer quelques navires de guerre de ce cost'* pour 
enipescher la correspondance par nier, et a envoyc 
la pluspart de ses troupes vers les frontier's d'Es- 
cosse, dont il craint les remuemens, et tons ses 
amis commencent A montrer une consternation 
bien grande toutes les fois que les nouvelles vien- 
nent que le Roy y est alle. dont on parle icy 
connne d'une chose certain. Depuis Tarriv^'e de la 
flotte d' Herbert, nous avon en pen plus de respect 
pour la force de France par mer. et cela augmente 
nos craintes. et Ton ne doute pas que si le Roy 
revient devant que le Prince d'Orange ayt eu le 
temps de faire des changemens considerables, qu'il 
ne soit receu par tons les gens les i)lus consider- 
ables, et mesme la populace commence a souffrir 
qu'on parle le luy favorablement ce qu'on n'osoit 
pas faire devant eux auparavent. 11 y a un fort 
grand nombre qui out d ja enrolls du monde, 
infanterie cavalerie et dragons, et qui ont mesmes 
leurs chevaux dans des maisons afiid'es et qui ne 
manguent que P occasion de paroistre estant de 
gens considerables et par leur famille. et par la 
grandeur de leur bien. On a juste raison de 
croire, que deux tiers dela vieille arm e seroit pour 
le Roy, en cas qu'il pust venir devant que ces sol- 
dats se soient api)liquez a quelque autre mestier.' 

With these authorities in view we see the mag- 
nitude of Macaulay's errors as to substance. 
328 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

The time of which Macaulaj iw ^Titing- is June 
1600. James was then hokling his Court in Dub- 
lin ; William was on his way to Carrickfergus ; 
Tourbeville was cruising in the Channel ; a P>ench 
descent upon our coasts was hourly expected. But 
how could Avaux tell his master anything about 
the state of public feeling? Avaux was at home 
in France. He had sailed from Cork in the pre- 
ceding spring. Avaux's letter shows the proper 
dale of his intelligence; he is speaking of the 
months of May and June 1689; a very different 
time to June 1690. 

The place from which Avaux forwards news of 
importance (from May and June 1689) is Scot- 
land—not p]ngland, as Macaulay says. In May 
and June 1689, England was calm, and London 
busy in preparing for the coronation. Scotland 
was in arms for her ancient line. Dundee was call- 
ing for troops, and Avaux trying to persuade his 
master to adventure in the strife. We see that 
Avaux. when he comes to business, puts the Scotch 
affairs in front. 'The good effect, sire, which 
these letters from Scotland and England have 
produced.' &c. Louis, in replying, treats the 
news from England as of no importance, while 
he answers very carefully as to the Scotch af- 
fair. 

I give the French king's answer to Avaux :— 

' VersaUle.<i, June 29, 1689. 

'Quant aux relations qu'on a envoyr d'Escosse, 
qui font voir que le party qui s'est declare pour 
le Roy pourroit faire des ])rogrez considerables s'i 
estoit puissamment secouru ou seulement apuye 
de la presence du Roy. c'est a ce Prince A voir s'ill 
est en estat de I'assister, et d'envoyer dans ledit 
pays quelque partie des troupes qu'il a en Irlande ; 
et si le secours de mille ou douze cens hommes que 
329 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

VOU8 mandez par vostre lettre du 5 qu'il avoit re- 
solu de faire passer en Escosse, j est heureusement 
arrive, malgre tons les empeschemens que le Prince 
d' Orange et les rebelles y pen vent former, on 
pouroit esperer d'uu semblable succez d'un second 
passage. II ne pent pas faire une diversion plus 
salutaire T' I'lrlande que Toccupation que les 
troupes et le party qu'il aura en Encosse pourra 
donner a ses ennemis. Pour ce qui regarde sa 
personne comme il pourroit arriver telle r>^volu- 
tion en sa faveur dans ledit rojaume que contre 
mon opinion, sa seule presence seroit capable de 
reduire enti}rement la ville d'Edimbourg a son 
obeissance. faire casser tout ce que la convention 
des rebelles a fait contre I'autoritj dudit Roy. et 
restablir tellement ses affaires dans tout 1" Escosse 
qu'elle donneroit de nouvelles forces A tons les 
Anglois qui sont niecontens du Prince d'Orange; 
il faut luy laisser prendre dans ces evenemens 
extraordinaires les r^' solutions qu'il croira luy estre 
les plus avantageuses en sorte qu"il ne puisse pas 
se plaindre qu'on luy ait fait manquer 1" occasion 
de rentrer dan ses estats ; mais la principale appli- 
cation qu'il doit avoir Ti present est de pourvoir a 
sa deffense et a la seuretj de ce qu'il possede en 
Irlande a quoy il faut esperer qu'il pourra reussir, 
si toutes les troupes qu'il a sur pied font bien leur 
devoir.' 

The person from whom Macaulay says that 
Avaux got his first news was William Penn; but 
Avaux nowhere says so. He only mentions M. 
Pen. Who was Avaux's * M. Pen?' There is no 
evidence to show that he was William Penn. and 
there is plenty of evidence to suggest that he was 
nol. That there were other 'M. Pens' about the 
court we know. There was George Penne the par- 
don-broker. There was Neville Penn a secret 
agent of the exiled court. This Neville Penn 
(whose name is spelt by different persons Pen. 
Penn Pain and Payne) was then in England on 
a secret mission, and the only fair construction 
of the words of Avaux is, that the news sent from 
330 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

England by ' M. Pen' were from the King's paid 
agent, Neville Penn. This Neville Penn was a 
zealous Catholic a man of talent, and a Jacobite 
by feeling even more than by his dubious trade. 
That he was hated in the English Court we know 
too well. A few months after Avaux sent his news 
to Louis Neville Penn, on flying from England 
into Scotland, fell into the power of the new gov- 
ernment, where he was screwed and torn ; a first 
time by command of Mary, and a second time by 
command of William ; till the oldest and least 
scrupulous politician left the council-table and the 
torture-chamber in disgust. (Leven and MeUrillc 
Fdpers, p. 582.) But let this *M. Pen' be whom 
he may. it is clear that a letter from him in the 
early part of 1689 cannot have been written by 
William Penn in connexion \^ith events in June 
1690. 

VIII. Penn is accused of falsehood : 

' Penn was brought before the Privy Council. 
He said . . . This was a falsehood ; and William 
was probably aware that it was so.'— i//\sv. Euy. 
iii. 600. 

No such interview as Macaulay pictures could 
have taken place. The dates forbid us to believe 
it. Macaulay fixes his imaginary interview imme- 
diately before the King's departure for Ireland. 
Now, the King left London on the 4th of June, 
1690 {Evelyn's Diarij, iii. 294). The proclama- 
tion for Penn's arrest was not issued until King 
William had been gone twenty days (Priry Coun- 
cil Reg. June 24, 1690) ; and Penn was still at 
large on the 31st of July {Penn to Nottinf/hmn, 
July 31). On the 15th of August Penn was dis- 
charged from custody {Privy Council Reg. Aug. 
831 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

15. 1690). William arrived at Kensington Sep- 
tember 10 {Gazette, Sept. 1690). It is therefore 
physically impossible that the interview described 
by Macaiilay could have taken place and there- 
fore physically impossible that Penn could have 
told the King a falsehood, which William proba- 
bly knew to be a falsehood. 

IX. Penn is described as flying from arrest, 
stealing down to the Sussex coast, and escaping 
into France — an enemy's country : 

'A warrant was issued against Penn and he 

narrowly escaped the messenger Penn w^as 

conspicuous among those who committed the 

corpse [of Fox] to the earth He instantly 

took flight He lay hid in London during 

some months and then stole down to the coast of 
Sussex and made his escape to France.'— i/isi. 
Eng. iv. 23, 30, 31. 

This paragraph is one mass of error, as the 
dates alone suffice to prove. Fox was buried at 
Bunhill Fields on the 16th of January. 1691 
(Journal of Fox, p. 366). The order for Penn's 
arrest was not given until three weeks later (Prinj 
Council Reg. Feb. 5, 1691). Penn neither stole 
down to Sussex nor escaped into France. He lived 
in London, and occasionally at Worminghurst. 
Croese writes : 

'Penn withdrew himself more and more from 
business, and at length he confined himself to his 
new house in London'. (7//V. (jiia/.-. ii. 102.) 

Luttrel, indeed, heard in a London coffee-house 

a report that Penn had escaped to France but 

the report was false. On turning to Penn's Works. 

the reader will find abundant fruit of the leisure 

332 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

now enjoyed by Penn in his own house. (Pcnn^s 
Collected Works, i. 818 892; ii. 774-807). This 
'escape to France' has disappeared from Macau- 
lay's revised index (Ilixt. Eikj. v. 327). 

X. Penn told Sydney something ' very like a 
lie ' and supported that lie by something ' very 
like an oath' : 

'A short time after his disappearance. Sydney 
received from him a strange communication. 
Penn begged for an interview, but insisted on a 
promise that he should be suffered to return un- 
molested to his hiding-place. Sydney obtained the 
royal permission to make an appointment on 
these terms. Penn came to the rendezvous, and 
spoke at length in his o^ti defence. He declared 
that he was a faithful subject of King William and 
Queen Mary, and that if he knew of any design 
against them he would discover it. Departing 
from his Yea and Nay he protested as in the 
I)resence of God, that he knew^ of no plot and 
that he did not believe that there was any plot 
unless the ambitious projects of the French gov- 
ernment might be called plots. Sydney, amazed 
probably by hearing a person who had such an 
abhorrence of lies that he would not use the 
common forms of civility and such an abhorrence 
of oaths that he would not kiss the book in a 
court of justice tell something very like a lie and 
confirm it by something very like an oath asked 
how if there were really no plot the letters and 
minutes which had been found on Ashton were to 
be explained. This question Penn evaded.' — Hht. 
EiKj. iv. 30. 31. 

As Macaulay cites Sydney's letter to William for 
his version of this strange interview. I give Syd- 
ney's letter to the King in full : — 

'Fe}>. 21. 1691. 

* Sir — About ten days ago Mr. Penn sent his 
brother-in-law. Mr. Lowther, to me to let me 
know that he would be very glad to see me if I 
333 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

would give him leave and promise him to let him 
return without being molested, I sent him word 1 
would if the Queen would permit it. He then de- 
sired me not to mention it to anyone but the 
Queen, I said I would not. On Monday he sent 
me to know what time I would appoint. I named 
Wednesday, in the evening; and accordingly I 
went to the place at the time, where I found him, 
just as he used to be, not at all disguised, but in 
the same clothes and the same humour I formerly 
have seen him in. It would be too long for your 
Majesty to read a full account of all our discourse ; 
but in short it was this that he was a true and 
faithful servant to King William and Queen Mary, 
and if he knew anything that was prejudicial to 
them or their government he would readily dis- 
cover it. He protested, in the presence of God 
that he knew of no plot ; nor did he believe there 
was any one in Europe but what King Lewis hath 
laid ; and he was of opinion that King James 
knew the bottom of this plot as little as other 
people. He saith he knows your Majesty hath a 
great many enemies ; and some that came over 
with you. and some that joined you soon after 
your arrival, he was sure were more inveterate 
and more dangerous than the Jacobites ; for he 
saith there is not one man among them that hath 
common understanding. To the letters that were 
found with my Lord Preston, and the papers of 
the conference, he would not give any positive 
answer, but said if he could have the honour to 
see the King and that he would be pleased to 
believe the sincerity of what he saith, and pardon 
the ingenuity of what he confessed he would 
freely tell everything he knew of himself and other 
things that would be much for his Majesty's ser- 
vice and interest to know but if he cannot obtain 
this favour he must be obliged to quit the king- 
dom ; which he is very unwilling to do. He saith 
he might have gone away twenty times if he had 
pleased but he is so confident of giving your 
Majesty satisfaction if you would hear him that 
he was resolved to expect your return before he 
took any sort of measures. What he intends to 
do, is all he can do for your service, for he can't 
be a witness if he would, it being as he saith, 
334 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

against his conscience and his principles to take 
an oath. This is the sum of our conference and I 
am sure your Majesty will jud^e as you ought to 
do of it, without any of my reflections.' — Balrym- 
pWs Mem. iii. 183. 

Here is a wholly different tale. Sydn.^y never 
hints that Penn was in a "hiding-place.' Sydney 
says, ' I found him ju;-.t as he used to be ; not at 
all disguised, but in the same clothes and the 
same humoui* I have formerly seen him in.' Syd- 
ney nowhere suggests that he thought Penn was 
telling ' something very like a lie.' Macaulay adds. 
Penn assured Sydney that 'the most formidable 
enemies of the government were the discontented 
Whigs.' Sydney never mentions these 'discon- 
tented Whigs.' Sydney never asked 'how the let- 
ters and minutes which had been found on Ashton 
were to be explained.' Macaulay makes Penn say, 
abmirdly. that 'the Jacobites are not dangerous.' 
Sydn3y reports him as saying, what was very 
true, that some of those who had come over with 
William, and some of those who had been the first 
to join him, were ' more dangerous than the Ja- 
cobites.' 

XI. Penn is accused of trying to persuade 
James to invade England at the head of thirty 
thousand men. 

' After about three years of wandering and lurk- 
ing, he made his peace with the government and 
again ventured to resume his ministrations. The 
return which he made for the lenity w^tll which he 
had been treated does not much raise his character. 
Scarcely had he again begun to harangue in public 
about the unlawfulness of war. than he sent a 
message earnestly exhorting James to make an 
immediate descent on England with thirty thou- 
sand men.'— ///i/. Eng, iv. 31. 
335 



LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN. 

The authority for this absurd statement is 'a 
paper dra'v\Ti up at St. Germain's under Melfort's 
direction,, Dec. 1828. 1693.' 

This paper, which the reader will find in Mac- 
pherson's 'Original Papers,' i. -459-4:63 never men- 
tions the name of Penn. It gives a list of many 
leading men in England who are said to be in- 
terested for the exiled family ; but the name of 
Penn is not among these men. Annexed to the 
' paper' are two reports from spies in one of which 
occurs the name Mr. Penn. But there is nothing 
to suggest that this 'Mr. Penn' is William Penn, 
the Founder and Lord Proprietor of Pennsylvania, 
while there is plenty of evidence to show that he 
is Neville Penn. The spy was one Williamson, who 
was in London, earning dirty money by the dirt- 
iest of all dirty trades. He sent word over to 
Versailles that certain peers and gentlemen. — the 
Earls of Clarendon, Yarmouth. Aylesbury and 
Arran, Sir James Montgomery, Sir Theophilus 
Oglethorpe, and Sir John Friend, Mr. Stroude, 
Mr. Louton, Mr. Ferguson, Mr. Penn, and Col. 
Graham, — implored the King to make a descent 
on England. Here is what this spy reports, of 
'Mr. Penn' :— 



'Mr. Penn says that your Majesty has had 
several occasions but never any so favourable as 
the present ; and he hopes that your Majesty will 
be earnest with the most Christian King not to 
neglect it; that a descent with thirty thousand 
men will not only re-establish your Majesty, but 
according to all appearances will break the 
T^eague; that your Majesty's kingdom will be 
wretched while the confederates are united, for 
while there is a fool in England the Prince of 
Orange will have a pensioned parliament who will 
give him money.' — MacphersorCs Original Papers, 
1, 488. 

386 



SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER. 

With the utmost confidence I say that William 
Penn never spoke and never wrote this stuff. Penn 
never used the phrase ' Your Majesty.' here used four 
times in as many lines. Penn never called Louis the 
Fourteenth the 'most Christian King.' The firtt 
impression shows that 'Mr. Penn' was not a Quaker, 
the second expression shows that 'Mr. Penn ' n-ai^ 
a Catholic. Williamson puts his 'Mr. Penn" b.low 
such men as Mr. Stroude. Mr. Louton, and Mr. 
Ferguson. Was there any ' Air. Penn' in James's 
pay whose place in such a list would be where 
Captain Williamson puts him? Y^es; we know 
there was. ' Mr. Penn' was Neville Penn. Neville 
Penn was acquainted with Williamson. Neville 
Penn was a paid agent. Neville Penn was inti- 
mate with Ferguson, and was connected with 
Montgomery. Neville Penn was a Roman Cath- 
olic. Neville Penn would address James as ' Your 
Majesty.' and assuredly speak of Louis as the 
'most Christian King.' Neville Penn would be 
sure to call King William 'the Prince of Orange,' 
and the two houses 'a pensioned parliament.' 

It is a second case of mistaken names. As ' Mr. 
Penne' who sold pardons in Somerset proved to 
be George Penne, so 'Mr. Penn* who recommended 
James to invade England with thirty thousand 
men. appears to have been Neville Penn. 

Thus vanishes the last of eleven charges against 
the private honour and public service of the 
Founder of Pennsylvania. For the sake of Lord 
Macaulay's credit as a writer, it will never cease 
to be a matter of regret that the amended ver- 
sions of his index were not introduced into his 
text. 



22 337 



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